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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

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GIFT  OF 


Col.  Arnold  W.  Shutter 


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THE   CULTURE    DEMANDED 
BY   MODERN    LIFE 


yi  SERIES  OF  /1DDRESSES  AND  ARGUMENTS  ON 

THE  CLAIMS  OF  SCIENTIFIC  EDUCATION 

BY 

Pkofs.   TYNDALL,    HENFREY,    HUXLEY,    PAGET,   WHEWELL, 

FARADAY,    LIEBIG,    DRAPER,    DE  MORGAN  ; 

Drs.  BARNARD,    HODGSON,    CARPENTER,    HOOKER, 

ACLAND,    FORBES,    HERBERT   SPENCER, 

Sir  JOHN    HERSCHEL,   Sir  CHARLES   LYELL, 

Dr.    SEGUIN,    Mr.    MILL,    Etc. 


WITH    AN    INTRODUCTION    ON 

MENTAL    DISCIPLINE   IN    EDUCATION 
By   E.    L.   YOUMANS 


'  Scientific  education,  apart  from  professional  objects, 
is  but  a  preparation  for  judging  rightly  of  man,  and 
of  his  requirements  and  interests." 

John  Stuart  Mill 


NEW    YORK 

D.  appleton  and  company 

1900 


LB7 


Copyright,  1867, 
By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


PREFACE. 


The  system  of  Popular  Education  in  this  country  has 
become  an  established  fact,  and  the  extensive  provisions 
for  it  in  all  the  States  show  how  generally  and  thoroughly 
it  is  appreciated.  But  the  movement  which  led  to  it  pro- 
ceeded from  the  feeling  of  a  want  to  be  supplied^  rather 
than  from  any  clear  perception  of  the  character  of  the 
thing  wanted.  While  the  struggle  was  to  get  it  accepted, 
any  thing  passing  under  the  name  of  Education — any  thing 
learned  from  books  at  stated  times  and  in  set  places — ^was 
sufficient. 

But  the  first  step  being  taken  and  the  System  secured, 
the  question  inevitably  arises  as  to  its  character,  defects, 
and  the  means  of  its  improvement ;  and  this  is  now  the 
supreme  consideration.  Deepei  than  all  questions  of 
Reconstruction,  Suffrage,  and  Finance,  is  the  question, 
What  kind  of  culture  shall  ihe  growing  mind  of  the  nation 
have  F  The  recent  and  extensive  organization  of  Normal 
Schools  for  the  more  thorough  and  systematic  preparation 
of  Teachers,  is  proof  of  a  general  desire  to  improve  the 


y|  PREFACE. 

methods  and  raise  the  standard  of  popular  instruction ;  and 
there  are  many  other  indications  of  a  growing  disposition 
to  carry  educational  inquiries  down  to  first  principles,  and 
to  bring  the  system  into  better  harmony  with  the  needs  of 
the  times. 

Among  other  imperfections  of  the  prevailing  education, 
in  all  its  grades,  one  of  the  most  serious  is  a  lack  of  the 
study  of  Nature.  The  importance  of  giving  a  larger  space 
to  scientific  subjects,  in  our  educational  courses,  is  being 
every  year  more  and  more  felt  and  acknowledged.  In 
place  of  the  excess  of  verbal  acquisition  and  mechanical 
recitation,  we  need  more  thinking  about  things  ;  in  place 
of  the  passive  acceptance  of  mere  book  and  tutorial  au- 
thority, more  cultivation  of  independent  judgment ;  in 
place  of  the  arbitrary  presentation  of  unrelated  subjects, 
the  branches  of  knowledge  require  to  be  dealt  with  in  a 
more  rational  and  connected  order ;  and  in  place  of  much 
that  is  irrelevant,  antiquated,  and  unpractical  in  our  sys- 
tems of  study,  there  is  needed  a  larger  infusion  of  the  liv- 
ing and  available  truth  which  belongs  to  the  present  time. 
A  conviction  of  the  extent  of  its  defects  and  needs  has  led 
many  of  the  most  eminent  thinkers  to  criticise  the  existing 
Educational  Systems,  and  to  urge  the  claims  of  the  \  arious 
sciences  to  increasing  consideration.  These  opinions  have 
generally  been  expressed  in  the  form  of  lectures  and  inci- 
dcnul  arguments,  which  are  not  convenient  of  access  ;  and 
a  belief  that  it  would  be  a  useful  service  at  the  present 
time  to  collect  some  of  the  most  important  of  them,  has 
Jed  to  the  present  compilation. 


PREFACE.  Vli 

Most  of  the  lectures  in  this  volume  have  not  been  be- 
fore published  in  this  country,  and  the  authors  of  severa' 
have  kindly  revised  their  productions  for  the  present  work. 
It  may  be  added  that  several  of  the  discussions  are  impor- 
tant not  only  as  presenting  the  claims  and  educational 
value  of  their  subjects,  but  also  as  suggesting  the  best 
methods  of  their  study.  Professor  Liebig's  late  lecture 
on  the  *'  Development  of  Ideas  in  Physical  Science  "  has 
so  direct  a  bearing  upoo  the  position  and  claims  of  science, 
especially  in  this  country,  as  to  deserve  a  place  in  the  pres- 
ent collection ;  and  an  excellent  translation  of  it  has  been 
expressly  made  for  this  volume. 

Nearly  all  the  discussions  it  contains  have  been  made 
u^ithin  the  last  dozen  years,  and  several  of  them  quite 
recently ;  so  that  they  may  be  regarded  as  outgrowths  and 
exponents  of  the  present  state  of  thought.  Those  of 
Tyndall,  Paget,  Faraday,  Whewell,  and  Hodgson,  were 
parts  of  a  course  delivered  before  the  Royal  Institution  of 
Great  Britain,  on  the  claims  of  the  various  sciences  ab 
means  of  the  education  of  all  classes.  Although  the 
reader  may  miss  in  this  volume  the  connection  and  co- 
herency of  a  systematic  treatise  on  the  subject  by  a  single 
writer,  and  even  note  some  minor  points  of  disagreement, 
yet  he  will  find  that  each  statement  is  a  section  of  a 
comprehensive  and  essentially  harmonious  argument  which 
presents  an  attractive  variety  of  treatment ;  while  the  stamp 
of  various  and  powerful  minds,  each  speaking  upon  the 
subject  with  which  he  is  best  acquainted,  must  give  the 
general  discussion  far  greater  authority  than  the  work  of 


viij  PREFACE. 

any   une   man,  no  matter  how  able,  could   possibly  po% 

The  lecture  on  "  The  Scientiiic  Study  of  Human  Na 
lure,"  and  the  introductory  essay  on  "  Mental  Discipline 
in  Education "  have  been  contributed  by  the  editor,  nof 
because  he  thought  himself  at  all  competent  to  do  justice 
to  these  interesting  topics,  but  because,  holding  them  to  be 
of  the  first  importance,  he  was  unable  to  find  any  discus- 
sion of  them  in  a  form  appropriate  to  the  volume.  In  the 
Introduction  he  has  attempted  to  show  that  a  course  of 
study,  mainly  scientific,  not  only  meets  the  full  require- 
ments of  mental  training,  but  also  affords  the  kind  of  cul- 
ture or  mental  discipline  which  is  especially  needed  in  this 
country  at  the  present  time.  He  has  there  presented  the 
phases  of  discipline  as  successive,  and  the  course  of  subjects 
should  undoubtedly  conform  to  the  order  stated ;  yet,  as 
President  Hill,  of  Harvard,  has  pointed  out  in  his  admira- 
ble pamphlet  on  '*The  True  Order  of  Studies,"  the 
pupil's  mind  requires  to  be  variously  exercised  from  the 
outset  } — several  different  lines  of  acquisition  being  car- 
ried along  togethec  The  organization  of  a  scheme  of 
study  adapted  to  American  wants  is  the  educational  prob 
lem  immediately  before  us,  and  the  present  volume,  it  is 
hoped,  will  contribute  valuable  suggestions  toward  its  sch* 
.ution. 
Ntw  Ymk,  iU;  1, 1167. 


CONTENTS. 


PREFACE, V 

INTRODUCTION— ON   MENTAL    DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCA- 
TION,       I 

PROFESSOR  TYNDALL  ON  THE  STUDY  OF  PHYSICS,  57 
PROFESSOR  HENFREY  ON  THE  STUDY  OF  BOTANY,  87 
PROFESSOR  HUXLEY  ON  THE  STUDY  OF  ZOOLOGY,  117 
DR.  JAMES  PAGET  ON  THE  STUDY  OF  PHYSIOLOGY,  147 
DR.  FARADAY  ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  JUDG- 
MENT,        185 

DR.   WHEWELL    ON   THE    EDUCATIONAL    HISTORY   OF 

SCIENCE, 225 

DR.  HODGSON  ON  THE  STUDY  OF  ECONOMIC  SCIENCE,  253 
MR.  HERBERT    SPENCER    ON    POLITICAL    EDUCATION,  295 
DR.  BARNARD  ON  EARLY  MENTAL  TRAINING,  .         .  309 
PROFESSOR    LIEBIG  ON  THE    DEVELOPMENT  OF  .SCIEN- 
TIFIC  IDEAS, 345 

E.  L.  YOUMANS  ON  THE  SCIENTIFIC  STUDY  OF  HUMAN 

NATURE,           ....                  ....  371 


CONTENTS. 


APPENDIX. 

PAOt 

Sh  y»hi  Henthel  »m  Umrvertity  StuJict^                                                      •  4'5 

Dr.  Getrit  R.  P^tt  M  tk*  Gtmcrti  Imfimtmcc  of  &ientijic  Culture,  418 

lUritrt  Sftmctr  m  ikt  Order  »/  Diuavtry  in  lie  Progrtu  of  KnovfUJge,  415 

Dr.  Drmfer  tm  the  Dtfielemcte*  of  Clerical  EdiuMiom,       ....  437 

Dr.  Stgum  M  the  Piju^iogital  Haiti  of  Primary  EJmeatiom,  43 1 

Dr.  fF^lamd  tm  Modem  Oolltiiau  StuJitt,  434 

Prrfttttr  De  Mtrfam  »m  Titnugkueu  of  httUceimal  Atiaiaaunt,  438 

Prwftmr  EJpMrd  Foriet  m  Ue  Edutational  Utet  of  Atutemmt,  443 

Primt*  jHhert  »u  the  Edrntational  CUimt  of  Science,     ....  444 

Dr.  Hill  *a  the  Otlti^faiiou  of  tke  Senut, 445 

frefuim  Goldnin  Smith  •■  Clauical  and  Modern  Cultiire,  .  449 

/>.  jiclsnd  ••  Esrly  Pkytiological  Study,     ......  450 

Lfd  Matmnlty  wt  the  Study  of  Oaiiical  Langue^ti,  .  451 

BSTmAcn  r*oM  eyiobucx  stroax  rat  bmclisii  tvmuc  kmoou'  coMMinioN. 

Rvidemee  of  Dr.  Carpenter,         .......  452 

Emdemee  of  Sir  Charles  Lyell, 45<, 

B-videne*  of  Dr.  Faraday, .  462 

B^ideue*  of  Proftmr  Onta                        466 

MoiJenet  of  Dr   lleahtrf     .                            ^jq 


MENTAL  DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION. 


**  If  we  consult  rcMon,  experience,  and  the  common  testimony  of  ancient 
ana  modern  times,  none  of  our  intellectual  studies  tend  to  cultivate  a  tmalltt 
mambtr  »f  ikt  faeultitt,  ia  «  wiore  f>artial  or  fttblt  wianiier^  tAsn  Mathcmatict. 
This  is  acknowledged  by  every  writer  on  Education  of  the  least  pretension  to 
judgment  and  experience"  Su  Wiluam  Hamilton. 

From  the  **  vast  preponderance  of  encouragement  to  Classical  reading  which 
the  condition  of  English  culture  offers,**  it  will  be  seen  "  how  important  it  is 
fat  those  who  know  that  mcrt  Cl*uicdl  reading  it  a  ntrrvw  and  enfeebling  £du' 
t*a»n  to  resist  any  attempts  to  add  to  this  preponderance,  by  diminishing  the 
encouragement  which  the  University  gives  to  studies  of  a  larger  or  more  vigor* 
o«s  kind."  Da.  Whcwkll. 

**  To  suppose  that  deciding  whether  a  Mathematical  or  a  Classical  Education 
is  the  best,  is  deciding  what  is  the  proper  curriculum,  is  much  the  same  thing 
as  to  suppoM  that  the  whole  of  dietetics  lies  in  ascertaining  whether  or  not 
bread  is  omtc  antntive  than  potatoes.**  HsaaBtT  SrcNCKa. 


INTRODUCTION.        ^ 


All  educational  inquiries  assume  that  man  is  individ- 
ually improvable,  and  therefore  collectively  progressive. 
Through  varied  experiences  he  is  slowly  civilized,  and 
there  is  a  growth  of  knowledge  with  the  course  of  ages. 
But  while  thought  is  ever  advancing,  it  is  the  nature  of 
institutions  to  fix  the  mental  states  of  particular  times  ;  and 
there  hence  arises  a  tendency  to  conflict  between  growing 
ideas  and  the  external  arrangements  which  are  designed  to 
express  and  embody  them.  Thought  refuses  to  be  sta- 
tionary ;  institutions  refuse  to  change,  and  war  is  the  con- 
sequence. 

This  fact  is  familiarly  illustrated  in  the  case  of  govern- 
ment. Ideas  and  character,  having  outgrown  the  arbitrary 
institutions  of  the  remoter  past,  there  has  arisen  between 
them  an  antagonism,  of  the  results  of  which  modern  his- 
tory is  full.  So,  too,  religious  conceptions  having  devel- 
oped beyond  the  ecclesiastical  organizations  to  which 
they  at  first  gave  rise,  a  struggle  arose  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  which,  resulting  in  the  Protestant  Reformation, 
has  persisted  under  various  aspects  to  the  present  time. 
And  so  it  is  also  with  the  traditional  systems  of  mental 
culture.      Educational  institutions  which  have  been  be- 


2  INTRODUCTION. 

queathed  to  us  by  the  past,  and  which  may  have  been 
suited  to  their  times,  have  fallen  out  of  harmony  with  the 
intellectual  necessities  of  modern  life,  and  a  conflict  has 
arisen  which  is  deepening  in  intensity  with  the  rapid 
growth  of  knowledge  and  the  general  progress  of  society. 

The  friends  of  educational  improvement  maintain  that 
the  system  of  culture  which  prevails  in  our  higher  institu- 
tions of  learning,  and  which  is  limited  chiefly  to  the  ac- 
quisition of  the  mathematics,  and  ot  the  ancient  languages 
and  literature,  was  shaped  ages  ago  in  a  state  of  things  so 
widely  different  from  the  present,  that  it  has  become  inad- 
equate to  existing  requirements.  They  urge  that  since  its 
establishment  the  human  mind  has  made  immense  ad- 
vances ;  has  changed  its  attitude  to  nature  and  entered 
upon  a  new  career  ;  that  realm  after  realm  of  new  truth 
has  been  discovered  ;  that  ideas  of  government,  religion, 
and  society  have  been  profoundly  modified,  and  that  new 
revelations  of  man's  powers  and  possibilities,  and  nobler 
expectations  of  his  future,  have  arisen.  As  man  is  a  being 
of  action,  it  is  demanded  that  his  education  shall  be  a 
preparation  for  action.  As  the  highest  use  of  knowledge 
is  for  guidance,  it  is  insisted  that  our  Collegiate  establish- 
ments shall  give  a  leading  place  to  those  subjects  of  study 
which  will  afford  a  better  preparation  for  the  duties  and 
nrork  of  the  age  in  which  we  live. 

The  adherents  of  the  traditional  system  reply  that  all 
this  is  but  the  unreasoning  clamor  of  a  restless  and  inno- 
vating age,  which  wholly  misconceives  the  true  aim  of  a 
higher  culture,  and  would  reduce  every  thing  to  the  stand- 
ard of  a  Jow  and  sordid  utility.  They  maintain  that 
knowledge  is  to  be  acquired  not  on  account  of  its  capabil- 
ity of  useful  application,  but  for  its  own  intrinsic  interest ; 
that  the  purpose  of  a  liberal  education  is  not  to  prepare  foi 


MENTAL    DISCIPLINE    IN   EDUCATION.  -^ 

ft  vocation  or  profession,  but  to  train  the  intellectual  facul- 
ties. They,  therefore,  hold  that  Mental  Discipline  is  the 
true  object  of  a  higher  culture,  and  that  for  its  attainment 
the  study  of  the  ancient  classics  and  mathematics  is  superioi 
to  all  other  means.  From  the  tone  assumed  by  its  defend- 
ers, when  speaking  of  its  incomparable  fitness  to  develop  all 
the  mental  faculties,  it  might  be  inferred  that  this  scheme 
of  study  was  formed  by  the  help  of  a  perfected  science 
of  the  human  mind.  Nothing,  however,  could  be  more 
erroneous.  Not  only  was  that  system  devised  ages  ante- 
rior to  any  thing  like  true  mental  science,  but  it  antedates 
by  centuries  the  whole  body  of  modern  knowledge.  There 
was  abundance  of  vague  metaphysics,  but  hardly  a  germ 
of  that  positive  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  mind,  which 
could  serve  as  a  valid  basis  of  education.  The  predomi- 
nant culture  of  modern  times  had  its  origin,  more  than 
eight  hundred  years  ago,  in  a  superstition  of  the  middle 
ages.  A  mystical  reverence  was  attached  to  the  sacred 
number  seven^  which  was  supposed  to  be  a  key  to  the  or- 
der of  the  universe.  That  there  were  seven  cardinal  vir- 
tues, seven  deadly  sins,  seven  sacraments,  seven  days  in 
the  week,  seven  metals,  seven  planets,  and  seven  apertures 
in  a  man's  head,  was  believed  to  afford  sufficient  reason 
for  making  the  course  of  liberal  study  consist  of  seven 
arts,  and  occupy  seven  years.  Following  another  fancy 
about  the  relation  of  three  to  four,  in  a  certain  geometri- 
cal figure,  these  seven  arts  were  divided  into  two  groups. 
The  first  three.  Grammar,  Logic,  and  Rhetoric,  comprised 
what  was  called  the  Trivmm  ;  and  the  remaining  four. 
Arithmetic,  Geometry,  Astronomy,  and  Music  (the  latter 
as  a  branch  of  Arithmetic),  formed  the  Quadrivium.  This 
scheme  has  been  handed  down  from  age  to  age,  and  with 
but  slight  changes,  still  predominates  in  the  higher  institu 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

cioDS  of  learning,  and  still  powerfully  reacts  upon  the  infe* 
rior  schools; 

Passing  by  various  embarrassing  questions  suggested  by 
the  hypothesis  that  the  one  perfect  method  of  bringing  the 
human  mind  to  its  highest  condition  has  not  only  been 
found,  but  has  been  actually  organized  into  educational 
institutions  for  hundreds  of  years — a  hypothesis  which  dig  • 
credits  the  whole  movement  of  modern  intellect  in  its  ed- 
ucational bearings — let  us  take  up  this  question  of  mental 
discipline.  The  subject  is  not  only  intrinsically  impor- 
tant, but  its  importance  is  greatly  heightened  when  an  old 
and  widely-established  system,  challenged  by  the  spirit  of 
the  age,  yields  the  point  of  the  usefulness  of  the  knowl- 
edge it  imparts,  and  offers  as  its  sole  defence  its  superior 
merits  as  a  system  of  mental  training ;  and  still  more  im- 
portant does  it  become  when  the  idea  is  so  constantly  and 
vehemently  iterated  as  to  acquire  all  the  force  and  tenacity 
of  a  superstition,  and  breed  a  regular  cant  of  education, 
which  serves  as  the  stereotyped  apology  for  numberless 
indefensible  projects  and  crudities  of  instruction.  The 
writer  recently  opened  a  huge  volume  on  Heraldry,  and 
the  very  first  passage  which  struck  his  eye  in  the  preface, 
urged  the  claims  of  that  subject  to  more  general  study  on 
the  ground  of  its  excellence  as  a  mental  discipline. 

I  propose,  in  the  present  Introduction,  first^  to  point  out 
the  defects  of  the  traditional  system  as  a  means  of  disci- 
plining the  mind  ;  and,  second^  lo  show  the  superior  claims 
of  scientific  education  for  this  purpose. 

TTie  claims  put  forth  in  behalf  of  the  prevailing  scheme 
Are  as  multitudinous  and  diverse  as  the  tastes  and  capaci- 
ties of  those  who  offer  them — a  natural  result,  perhaps, 
in  the  absence  of  any  considerations  so  decisive  as  to 
command  general  agreement  ;  but  those  most  commonly 


MENTAL    DISCIPLINE   IN    EDUCATION.  ^ 

urged  are,  that  the  grammatical  acquisition  of  the  dead 
languages  best  disciplines  the  memory  and  judgment,  and 
the  study  of  mathematics  the  reason.  Let  us  briefly  notice 
these  points  first : 

That  the  acquisition  of  words  exercises  the  memory  is 
of  course  true — those  of  living  languages  as  well  as  dead 
ones,  but  their  assumed  merit  for  discipline  raises  the  ques-- 
tion  how  they  exercise  it.  Memory  is  the  capability  of 
recalling  past  mental  impressions,  and  depends  chiefly 
upon  the  relations  subsisting  among  these  impressions  in 
the  mind.  If  they  are  arbitrary,  the  power  of  recall  de- 
pends upon  multiplicity  of  repetition,  and  involves  a  maxi- 
mum outlay  of  mental  force  in  acquisition.  If,  however, 
ideas  are  arranged  in  the  mind  in  a  natural  order  of  con- 
nection and  dependence,  this  principle  becomes  the  most 
important  element  in  commanding  past  acquisitions.  The 
conditions  are  then  reversed ;  the  outlay  of  effort  in  ac- 
quisition is  reduced,  and  the  power  of  recall  increased. 
Now  the  memory  cultivated  in  the  common  acquirement 
of  language,  is  of  this  lowest  kind.  The  relation  be- 
tween words  and  the  ideas,  or  objects,  of  which  they  are 
the  signs,  is  accidental  and  arbitrary.  Although  philologi- 
cal science  is  beginning  dimly  to  trace  out  certain  natural 
relations  between  words  and  the  things  they  signify,  it 
will  not  be  claimed  that  this  i§  made  at  all  available  in  the 
ordinary  study  of  Latin  and  Greek ;  indeed,  the  most 
thorough-going  advocates  of  these  studies  claim  that  their 
disciplinal  value  is  in  the  ratio  of  the  naked  retentive 
power  which  they  call  into  exercise.  But  the  memory 
cannot  be  best  disciplined  by  a  mental  procedure  which 
neglects  its  highest  law.  If  the  power  of  recovering  past 
states  of  consciousness  depends  upon  the  natural  and  ne- 


ft  INTRODUCTION. 

tbssary  connections  among  ideas,  then  those  studies  arc 
best  suited  for  a  rational  discipline  of  this  power  which 
involve  these  natural  relations  among  objects.  On  both 
grounds  the  sciences  are  preferable  to  dead  languages,  as 
instruments  of  culture.  For  if  it  be  held  desirable  merely 
to  task  the  memory  by  a  dead  pull  at  arbitrary  facts  (and 
there  are  not  wanting  those  who  hold  to  this  notion  of 
discipline),  then  it  is  only  necessary  to  use  the  innumerable 
facts  of  science,  without  regard  to  order ;  but  when  wc 
take  into  account  the  immense  importance  of  methodizing 
mental  acquisition,  and  utilizing  the  principle  of  natural 
association  among  the  elements  of  knowledge,  the  im- 
measurable superiority  of  the  sciences  for  this  purpose  be- 
comes at  once  apparent.  This  is  happily  illustrated  by 
some  observations  of  Dr.  Arnold,  respecting  the  memorv 
of  geography.     He  says  : 

*'  And  this  deeper  knowledge  becomes  far  easier  to  re- 
member. For  my  own  part  I  find  it  extremely  difficult 
to  remember  the  positions  of  towns,  when  I  have  no  other 
association  with  them  than  their  situations  relatively  to 
each  other.  But  let  me  once  understand  the  real  geogra- 
phy of  a  countrj' — its  organic  structure,  if  I  may  so  call 
it ;  the  form  of  its  skeleton,  that  is,  of  its  hills  ;  the  mag- 
nitude and  course  of  its  veins  and  arteries,  that  is,  of  its 
streams  and  rivers  ;  let  me  conceive  of  it  as  a  whole  made 
up  of  connected  parts ;  and  then  the  positions  of  towns 
viewed  in  reference  to  these  parts  becomes  at  once  easily 
remembered,  and  lively  and  intelligible  besides." 

If  now  it  oe  said  that  it  is  not  mere  memory  of  words 
that  is  contended  for,  but  the  discipline  and  judgment 
afforded  by  the  grammatical  study  of  the  structure  of  lan- 
guage, the  crushing  answer  is  that  a  dead  language  is  un^ 
necessary  for  this  discipline,  which  is  far  better  secured  by 
the  systematic  study  and  thorough  logical  analysis  of  the 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION.  j 

vernacular  tongue.*  Perhaps  there  is  no  point  in  education 
in  which  there  is  so  universal  and  intense  an  agreement 
among  independent  thinkers,  as  in  condemning  the  folly 
of  beginning  the  acquisition  of  foreign  languages,  living 
or  dead,  by  the  study  of  their  grammar — the  methoo 
in  general  use  among  those  who  defend  it  as  a  mental 
discipline.  The  usual  school-practice  of  thrusting  the 
young  into  the  grammar,  even  of  their  native  tongue,  is 
well  known  to  be  one  of  the  most  efficient  means  of  the 
artificial  production  of  stupidity  ;  but  the  habit  of  intro- 
ducing them  to  a  foreign  language  through  this  gateway, 
is  a  still  more  flagrant  outrage.  The  natural  method  of 
acquiring  speech  is  the  way  we  all  acquire  it ;  the  knowl- 
edge of  words  first,  then  their  combination  into  sentences, 
to  be  followed  by  the  practical  use  of  the  language  ;  rules 
and  precepts  may  then  be  intelligently  applied.  But  to 
begin  with  these  is  to  put  the  complex  before  the  simple, 
the  abstract  before  the  concrete,  generals  before  particu- 
lars, and,  in  short,  to  invert  the  natural  order  of  mental 
processes,  and  to  work  the  mind  backward,  under  the 
plea  of  disciplining  it.  An  eminent  living  authority  in 
philology.  Professor  Latham,  in  a  lecture  before  the  Royal 
Institution  of  Great  Britain,  observed  : 

"  In  the  ordinary  teaching  of  what  is  called  the  grammar 
of  the  English  language,  there  are  two  elements.  There  is 
something  professed  to  be  taught  which  is  not ;  and  there  is 
something  which,  from  being  already  learned  better  than 
any  man  can  teach  it,  requires  no  lessons.  The  latter  is 
the  use  and  practice  of  the  English  tongue.  The  former 
is  the  principles  of  grammar.  The  facts,  that  language 
is  more  or  less  regular ;  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  gram- 
mar ;  that  certain  expressions  should  be  avoided,  are  all 
matters  worth  knowing.  And  they  are  all  taught  even  by 
the  worst  method  of  teaching.     But  are  these  the  propei 

*  See  Prof.  Jewell's  able  paper  on  the  "  Logical  Analysis  of  the  Englisii 
Language,"  in  Proceedings  of  N.  Y.  University  Convocation. 


S  INTRODUCTION. 

objects  of  systematic  teaching  ?  Is  the  importance  of 
their  acquisition  equivalent  to  the  time,  the  trouble,  and 
the  displacement  of  more  valuable  subjects,  which  are  in- 
volved in  their  explanation  ?  I  think  not.  Gross  vulgar- 
ity of  language  is  a  fault  to  be  prevented  ;  but  the  proper 
prevention  is  to  be  got  from  habit — not  rules.  The  pro- 
prieties of  the  English  language  are  to  be  learned,  like  the 
proprieties  of  English  manners,  by  conversation  and  inter- 
course ;  and  a  proper  school  for  both  is  the  best  society  in 
which  the  learner  is  placed.  If  this  be  good,  systematic 
teaching  is  superfluous  ;  if  bad,  insufficient.  There  are 
unquestionably  points  where  a  young  person  may  doubt  as 
to  the  grammatical  propriety  of  a  certain  expression.  In 
this  case  let  him  ask  some  one  older,  and  more  instructed. 
Grammar,  as  an  art^  is  undoubtedly  the  art  of  speaking 
and  writing  correctly — but  then,  as  an  art,  it  is  only  re- 
quired for  foreign  languages.  For  our  own  we  have  the 
necessary  practice  and  familiarity. 

**  The  true  claim  of  English  grammar,  to  form  part  and 
parcel  of  an  English  education,  stands  or  falls  with  the 
value  of  the  philological  knowledge  to  which  grammatical 
studies  may  serve  as  an  introduction,  and  with  the  value 
of  scientific  grammar,  as  a  disciplinal  study.  I  have  no 
fear  of  being  supposed  to  undervalue  its  importance  in  this 
respect.  Indeed,  in  assuming  that  it  is  very  great,  I  also 
assume  that  wherever  grammar  is  studied  as  grammar,  the 
language  which  the  grammar  so  studied  should  represent, 
must  be  the  mother  tongue  of  the  student,  whatever  that 
mother  tongue  may  be.  This  study  is  the  study  of  a 
theory ;  and  for  this  reason  it  should  be  complicated  as  lit- 
tle as  possible  by  points  of  practice.  For  this  reason  a 
man's  mother  tongue  is  the  best  medium  for  the  elements  of  set- 
•ntific  philology^  simply  because  it  is  the  one  which  he 
knows  best  in  practice." 

It  thus  appears  that  to  secure  the  disciplinary  uses  of 
grammatical  study,  not  even  a  foreign  language  is  ncccs- 
nry,  much  less  a  dead  one. 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE    IN   EDUCATION.  O 

When  it  is  remembered  that  the  Hebrew  language 
had  no  grammar  till  a  thousand  years  after  Christ ;  that 
the  masterpieces  of  Greek  literature  were  produced  be- 
fore Aristotle  first  laid  the  grammatical  foundations  of 
that  language ;  that  the  Romans  acquired  the  Greek 
without  grammatical  aid,  by  reading  and  conversation ; 
that  the  most  eminent  scholars  of  the  middle  ages  and 
later,  Alfred,  Abelard,  Beauclerc,  Roger  Bacon,  Chau- 
cer, Dante,  Petrarch,  Lipsius,  Buddeus,  and  the  Scal- 
igers — Latin  scholars,  who  have  never  since  been  sur- 
passed, learned  this  language  without  the  assistance  of 
grammar ;  that  Lilly's  grammar,  in  doggerel  Latin  verse, 
was  thrust  upon  the  English  schools  by  royal  edict  of 
Henry  VHL,  against  the  vehement  protest  of  men  like 
Ascham,  and  that  the  decline  of  eminent  Latinists  in  that 
country  was  coincident  with  the  general  establishment  of 
this  method  of  teaching ;  that  Dante,  Petrarch,  and  Boc- 
caccio gave  to  the  world  their  immortal  works  two  hun- 
dred years  before  the  appearance  of  the  first  Italian  gram- 
mar ;  that  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Dryden,  Addison,  Pope, 
Young,  Thomson,  Johnson,  Burns,  and  others,  whose 
names  will  live  as  long  as  the  English  language,  had  not 
in  their  childhood  learned  any  English  grammar  j  that 
Corneille,  Moliere,  La  Fontaine,  Pascal,  Bossuet,  Boi- 
leau,  and  Racine,  wrote  their  masterpieces  long  before 
the  publication  of  any  French  grammar ;  that  men  like 
Collet,  Wolsey,  Erasmus,  Milton,  Locke,  Gibbon,  Con- 
dillac,  Lemare,  Abbe  Sicard,  Basil  Hall,  Home  Tooke, 
A  dam  Smith,  and  a  host  of  others,  have  emphatically  con- 
demned the  method  of  acquiring  language  through  the 
Study  of  grammar;  that  the  most  eminent  masters  of 
anguage,  Demosthenes,  Seneca,  Malherbe,  Clarendon, 
Montesquieu,   Fenelon,  V'oltaire,    Rousseau,   Montaigne 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

Boileau,  Dante,  Galileo,  Franklin,  Gibbon,  Robertson, 
Pope,  Burns,  Byron,  and  Moore,  acknowledge  that  they 
attained  their  excellences  of  style  by  the  study  and  imi- 
tation of  the  best  models  of  writing  ;  and  finally,  that 
mere  grammarians  are  generally  bad  writers  :  when  wc  re- 
call facts  like  these,  we  can  begin  to  rate  at  something  like 
their  true  value  the  claims  of  the  grammatical  study  of  de- 
lunct  forms  of  speech  for  mental  training.  That  there  is  a 
useful  discipline  in  the  critical  study  of  language,  as  in 
the  critical  study  of  most  other  things,  is  not  denied  ;  but 
that  it  has  either  the  transcendent  importance  usually  as> 
sumed,  or  that  it  cannot  be  substantially  acquired  by  the 
mastery  of  modern  tongues,  is  what  the  advocates  of  the 
dead  languages  have  failed  to  prove.  * 

Let  us  now  notice  the  discipline  of  mathematics,  the 
claims  of  which  to  an  important  place  in  a  liberal  scheme 
of  education  are  of  course  unquestionable.  Dealing  with 
conceptions  of  quantity  under  various  forms  of  expression, 
and  with  a  varying  application  to  universal  phenomena, 
they  are  an  indispensable  key  to  universal  science,  and 
their  basis  is,  therefore,  a  broad  and  solid  utility.  But  the 
devotees  of  tradition  are  not  satisfied  with  this ;  they  make 
extravagant  claims  for  mathematics,  on  the  ground  of 
the  discipline  they  afford,  and  then  usurp  for  them  an  edu- 
cational predominance  to  which  they  are  not  entitled.  In 
their  subordinate  place  they  are  invaluable ;  as  a  too  en- 
grossing subject  of  study,  injurious.  Mathematics  are 
suited  to  form  habits  of  continuous  attention  by  dealing 
with  trains  of  proof,  to  help  the  imagination  steadily 
to  grasp  abstract  relations,  and  to  familiarize  the  mind 

*  For  confirmation  of  the  statements  in  thtj  paragraph  tee  *<  Marcel  on  Laa> 
fiu|e,"  in  two  volumes.  London :  Chapman  tc  Hall,  1853.  It  ii  not  credits* 
Ua  to  American  education  that  this  able  work  hat  not  been  rcpubrttbed  here. 


MENTAL    DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION.  n 

with  a  system  of  necessary  truth.  But  they  do  not  afford 
a  complete  exercise  of  the  reasoning  powers.  They  begin 
with  axioms,  self-evident  truths,  established  principles,  and 
proceed  to  their  conclusions  along  a  track  each  step  of 
which  is  an  intuitive  certainty.  But  it  so  happens  that  in 
our  mental  dealings  w^ith  the  experiences  of  life,  the  firstj 
the  most  important,  and  most  difficult  thing  is  to  get  the 
data  or  premises  from  which  to  reason.  The  primary 
question  is.  What  are  the  facts,  the  pertinent  facts,  and  all 
the  facts,  which  bear  upon  the  inquiry  ?  This  is  the  su- 
preme step ;  for,  until  this  is  done,  reasoning  is  futile,  and 
It  may  be  added  that,  when  this  is  done,  the  formation  of 
conclusions  is  a  comparatively  simple  process.  Now 
mathematical  training  cannot  help  to  this  important  pre- 
liminary work ;  it  leaves  its  cultivator  to  the  blind  accept- 
ance or  blind  rejection  of  his  premises.  Those,  therefore, 
who  have  exclusively  pursued  these  studies,  so  as  to  form 
mathematical  habits  of  thinking,  have  no  preparation  for 
the  practical  emergencies  of  thought,  where  contingencies 
are  to  be  taken  into  account,  where  probable  evidence  is 
to  be  weighed,  and  conclusions  from  imperfect  knowledge 
are  to  be  formed  and  acted  upon.  The  pure  mathema- 
tician is  therefore  liable  to  a  one-sided  and  erratic  judgment 
of  affairs.  An  exclusive  mathematical  discipline  must, 
therefore,  be  held  as  an  actual  disqualification  for  the  work 
of  life.* 

*  Dugald  Stewart  remarks :  "  How  accurate  soever  the  logical  process  may 
be,  if  our  first  principles  be  rashly  assumed,  or-if  our  terms  be  indefinite  and  am- 
biguous, there  is  no  absurdity  so  great  that  we  may  not  be  brought  to  adopt  it  j 
and  it  unfortunately  happens  that,  while  mathematical  studies  exercise  the  fac- 
ulty of  leasoning  or  deduction,  they  give  no  employment  to  the  other  powers  of 
the  understanding  concerned  in  the  investigation  of  truth.  On  the  contrary, 
ihey  are  apt  to  produce  a  facility  in  the  admission  of  data,  and  a  circumscription 
of  the  field  of  speculation  by  partial  znd  arbitrary  definitions.  ...  I  think  ] 
have  observed  a  peculiar  proneness  in  mathematicians  to  avail  themselves  of 


12  INTRODUCnON. 

It  is  important  to  notice  that,  so  far  as  the  mode  of  ex- 
L'rcising  the  mind  is  concerned,  mathematical  discipline 
does  not  correct  the  defects  of  lingual  discipline,  but  rather 
confirms  them.  We  hence  see  how  it  was  that  mathemat- 
ics so  perfectly  harmonized  with  philology  as  to  have  been 
early  and  naturally  incorporated  with  it  in  the  same  scheme 
of  culture.  Both  begin  with  the  unquestioning  acceptance 
of  data — axioms,  definitions,  rules ;  both  reason  deduc- 
tively from  foregone  assumptions,  and  therefore  both  ha- 
bituate to  the  passive  acceptance  of  authority — the  highest 
mental  desideratum  in  the  theological  ages  and  establish- 
ments which  gave  origin  to  the  traditional  curriculum. 

To  those  familiar  with  the  literature  of  this  discussion, 
the  objections  here  presented  will  not  be  new ;  but  there 
are  certain  considerations  growing  out  of  the  recent  prog- 
ress of  thought,  which  have  a  powerful  bearing  upon  the 
question,  and  which  it  is  desirable  now  to  present.  And 
first,  What  is  the  real  significance  of  the  phrase  '  discipline 
of  the  mind  *  ? 

By  mental  discipline  in  education  is  meant,  that  sys- 
vcmatic  and  protracted  exercise  of  the  mental  powers 
which  is  suited  to  raise  them  to  their  highest  degree  of 
healthful  capability,  and  impart  a  permanent  direction  to 

pnnciples  unctioned  by  some  imposing  names,  and  to  avoid  all  discussion  which 
might  tend  to  an  examination  of  ultimate  truths,  or  involve  a  rigorous  analysis 
of  their  ideas.  ...  In  the  course  of  my  own  experience  I  have  not  met 
«*ith  a  mere  mathematician,  who  was  not  credulous  to  a  fault ;  credulous  not 
only  with  respect  to  human  testimony,  but  credulous  abo  in  matters  of  opinion; 
•ad  prone,  on  all  subjects  which  he  had  not  carefully  studied,  to  repose  too 
much  faith  in  illustrations  and  consecrated  names."  Pascal  also  observes  :  "  It 
b  rare  that  mathematic'uns  are  observant,  or  that  observant  minds  are  mathe- 
matical, because  mathematicians  would  treat  matters  of  observation  by  rule  of 
BUtheniattc,  and  make  themselves  ridiculous  by  attempting  to  commence  bj 
ihfiwMons,  and  by  principles." 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION.  jo 

their  activity.  The  mind  takes  a  set  or  stamp  from  the 
character  of  the  knowledge  it  acquires,  and  the  mode  of 
activity  w^hich  these  acquisitions  involve,  and,  in  this  way, 
mental  habits  are  formed.  But,  what  is  the  basis  of  this 
great  fact  of  mental  habits,  by  which  so  spiritual  an  agency 
as  mind  becomes  fettered  ?  It  is  a  property  of  the  organic 
constitution^  and  its  consideration  brings  us  down  to  the  firm 
physiological  basis  of  the  whole  subject. 

There  are  two  methods  of  studying  mind.  The  old 
metaphysical  method  simply  takes  note  of  the  mental  ef- 
fects which  are  manifested  in  consciousness,  but  modern 
psychology  goes  deeper,  and  takes  into  account  the  con- 
ditions under  which  these  manifestations  arise.  It  no 
longer  admits  of  denial  or  cavil,  that  the  Author  of  our 
being  has  seen  fit  to  connect  mind  and  intelligence  with 
a  nervous  mechanism :  in  studying  mental  phenomena, 
therefore,  in  connection  with  this  mechanism,  we  are  stud- 
ying them  in  the  relation  which  God  has  established,  and, 
therefore,  in  the  only  true  relation.  There  is  still  a  pow- 
erful prejudice  against  this  proceeding.  Literature  and 
Theology  continue  to  pour  their  contempt  upon  that  *  mat- 
ter* which  infinite  wisdom  has  consecrated  to  the  high 
purpose  of  manifesting  mental  effects,  while  the  scientific 
study  of  the  organ  of  thought  has  been,  until  very  re- 
cently, outlawed  by  the  state.*  Yet  nothing  is  more  cer- 
tain than  that  in  future,  mind  is  to  be  studied  in  connec- 
tion with  the  organism  by  which  it  is  conditioned  :  when 
we  begin  to  deal  with  the  problem  of  mental  discipline, 
metaphysics  no  longer  avail ;  it  is  the  organism  with 
which  we  have  finallv  to  deal. 

When  it  is  said  that  the  brain  is  the  organ  of  the  mind, 
it  is  meant  that  in  thinking,  remembering,  reasoning,  the 
brain  acts.     It  is  now  admitted  that  all  impressions  made 

*  Human  dUsections  having  been,  until  lately,  illegal. 


X4  INTRODUCTION. 

upon  the  brain,  and  all  actions  occurring  within  it,  are  ac 
companied  by  physical  changes.  Thought  usually  goes  on 
so  quietly,  and  seems  so  far  removed  from  bodily  activity, 
that  we  are  easily  betrayed  into  the  notion  that  it  is  carried 
on  in  a  region  of  pure  spirit  i  but  this  is  far  from  being  thr 
truth.  The  changes  of  states  of  consciousness,  the  course 
of  thought,  and  all  processes  of  the  understanding,  are 
carried  on  by  a  constant  succession  of  nerve-excitements 
and  nerve-discharges.  The  brain  is  not  a  chaos  of  parts 
thrown  together  at  random  ;  it  consists  of  hundreds  of 
millions  of  cells  and  fibres,  organized  into  symmetrical  or- 
der, so  as  to  produce  innumerable  connections,  crossings, 
and  junctions  of  exquisite  delicacy.  The  simple  elements 
of  mind  are  built  up  into  complex  knowledge  by  the  law 
of  association  of  ideas ;  and  the  mental  associations  are 
formed  by  combinations  of  currents  in  the  brain,  and  are 
made  permanent  by  the  growth  and  modification  of  cells 
at  the  points  of  union.  When  a  child  associates  the  sight, 
weight,  and  ring  of  a  dollar,  with  the  written  word  and 
verbal  sound  that  represent  it  so  firmly  together  in  its 
mind  that  any  one  of  these  sensations  will  instantly  bring 
up  the  others,  it  is  said  to  *•  learn '  it.  But  the  real  fact  of 
the  case  is,  that  the  currents  formed  by  visible  impressions, 
vocal  movements  and  sounds,  are  often  repeated  together, 
and  are  thus  combined  in  the  brain,  and  fixed  by  specific 
growths  at  their  points  of  union,  and  in  this  way  the  men- 
tal associations  are  cemented  by  cerebral  nutrition.  And 
thus  the  child  goes  on  multiplying  its  experiences  of  the 
properties  of  objects  and  of  localities,  persons,  actions, 
conduct ;  he  observes,  compares,  contrasts,  infers,  and 
judges,  and  all  this  growing  and  complex  mass  of  acquisi- 
tion is  definitely  combined  in  the  growing  and  perfecting 
organ  of  the  oiind. 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION. 


15 


The  basis  of  educability,  and  hence  of  mental  disci- 
pline, is,  therefore,  to  be  sought  in  the  properties  of  that 
nervous  substance  by  which  mind  is  manifested.  That 
basis  is  the  law  that  cerebral  effects  are  strengthened  and 
made  lasting  by  repetition.  When  an  impression  is  made 
upon  the  brain,  a  change  is  produced,  and  an  effect  remains 
in  the  nerve  substance;  if  it  be  repeated,  the  change  is  deep- 
ened, and  the  effect  becomes  more  lasting.  If  we  have  a 
perception  of  an  object,  or  if  we  perform  an  action  only 
once,  the  nervous  change  is  so  slight  that  the  idea  may 
perhaps  never  reappear,  and  the  act  never  be  repeated ; 
if  experienced  twice,  the  tendency  to  recur  is  increased  ; 
if  many  times,  this  tendency  is  so  deepened,  and  the  links 
of  association  become  so  extended,  that  the  idea  will  be 
often  obtruded  into  thought,  and  the  action  may  take 
place  involuntarily.  Intellectual  '  capacity '  is  thus  at 
bottom  an  affair  of  physical  impressibility,  or  nervous  ad- 
hesiveness. Regard  being  had  to  the  law  that  all  nutritive 
operations  involve  repose,  cohesion  or  completeness  of 
association  depends  upon  repetition.  Of  course,  constitu- 
tions differ  widely  in  this  property,  some  requiring  many 
more  repetitions  than  others,  to  secure  acquirement.* 
This  view  leads  to  important  practical  conclusions. 

*  To  illustrate  the  two  modes  of  viewing  mental  phenomena,  I  will  quote 
a  couple  of  extracts  from  eminent  authorities,  reprobating  the  pernicious  prac- 
tice of  *  cramming '  for  examinations.  Dr.  Whewell,  content  with  the  meta- 
physical method,  observes  :  "  I  may  add  my  decided  opinion  that  no  system  of 
education  which  is  governed  entirely  or  even  mainly  by  examinations,  occupying 
(hort  times  with  long  intervening  intervals,  can  ever  be  otherwise  than  bad 
mental  discipline.  Intellectual  education  requires  that  the  mind  should  be  ha- 
bitually employed  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  with  a  certain  considerable 
degree  of  clear  insight  and  independent  activity." 

Mr  Bain  takes  the  psychological  view,  and  reaches  the  vital  dynamics  of  the 
case.  He  says :  "  The  system  of  cramming  is  a  scheme  for  making  tempo 
rary  acquisitions,  regardless  of  the  endurance  of  them.     Excitable  brains,  thaf 


l6  INTRODUCTION. 

When  it  is  perceived  that  what  we  have  to  deal  with 
in  mental  acquirement  is  organic  processes,  which  have  a 
definite  time-rate  of  procedure,  so  that,  however  vigor- 
ously the  currents  are  sustained  by  keeping  at  a  thing,  ac- 
quisition is  not  increased  in  the  same  degree  ;  when  we  sec 
that  new  attainments  are  easiest  and  most  rapid  during 
early  life — the  time  of  most  vigorous  growth  of  the  bod)- 
generally ;  that  thinking  exhausts  the  brain  as  really  as 
working  exhausts  the  muscles,  and  that  rest  and  nutrition  are 
as  much  needed  in  one  case  as  the  other ;  when  we  see 
that  rapidity  of  attainment  and  tenacity  of  memory  ihvolvc 
the  question  of  cerebral  adhesions,  and  note  how  widely 
constitutions  differ  in  these  capabilities,  how  they  depend 
upon  blood,  stock,  and  health,  and  vary  with  numberless 
conditions,  we  become  aware  how  inexorably  the  problem 
of  mental  attainment  is  hedged  round  with  limitations,  and 
the  vague  notion  that  there  are  no  bounds  to  acquisition 
except  imperfect  application  disappears  forever.* 

The  doctrine  of  mental  limitations,  which  we  thus  find 
grounded  in  the  organic  constitution,  puts  the  philosophy  of 
education  at  once  on  the  basis  of  the  economy  of  mental 
power.  The  student  is  constantly  told  that  his  time  is 
limited,  and  exhorted  not  to  waste  it ;  but  his  forces  of 
acquisition  are  equally  limited,  and  it  becomes  a  question 
of  still  higher  importance  how  to  economize  these,  for  it 

can  command  a  very  great  concentration  of  force  upon  a  subject,  will  be  propor- 
ttonably  improved  for  the  time  being.  By  drawing  upon  the  strength  of  the 
'ttture,  we  are  able  to  fix  temporarily  a  great  variety  nf  impressions  during  the 
naluaon  of  cerebral  power  that  the  excitement  gives.  The  occasion  past,  the 
Oram  must  lie  idle  for  a  corresponding  length  of  time,  while  a  large  portion  of 
cfae  excited  imprenions  will  gradually  perish  away.  This  system  is  exceedingly 
•nfavorable  to  permanent  acquisitions ;  for  these  the  brain  should  be  carefully 
batbanded,  and  temporarily  drawn  upon.  Every  period  of  undue  excitement  and 
%vfltkb  MMcepdbility  b  a  time  of  great  waste  for  the  plastic  energy  of  the  mind.* 
•  Sm  page  S4S. 


MENTAL    DISCIPLINE    IN   EDUCATION. 


17 


is  possible  sedulously  to  save  the  moments  while  squander* 
ing  half  the  energies  of  the  mind  in  bad  application.  Ob- 
viously if  intellectual  power  has  its  fixed  bounds,  the  su- 
preme question  is,  How  can  the  highest  results  be  attained 
within  those  bounds  ? 

Nature's  method  of  economizing  power  is  by  repetition 
of  actions  in  constantly  varying  conditions.  The  celes- 
tial order  is  maintained  by  endless  repetition  of  axial  and 
orbital  revolutions.  The  operations  of  the  world  are  car- 
ried on  by  using  over  and  over  again  the  same  stock  of  re- 
sources ;  matter  and  force  circle  round  and  round  through 
the  mineral,  vegetable,  and  animal  phases ;  in  the  growing 
plant  leaves  undergo  constant  transformation  into  othei 
organs,  while  the  animal  skull  is  formed  of  modified  ver- 
tebral spines.  And  so  in  the  unfoldings  of  the  mental 
world,  Nature  is  constantly  falling  back  upon  old  acquisi- 
tions, and  using  them  to  produce  new  effects.  In  the  pro- 
cess of  acquirement,  ideas  and  aptitudes  once  mastered  are 
constantly  wrought  into  higher  and  more  complex  combi- 
nations. The  organ  of  thought  being  a  vast  reduplication 
of  the  same  simple  elements,  the  growth  of  thought  re- 
sjalts  from  an  endless  repetition  of  the  same  simple  opera- 
tions. 

The  child,  through  numberless  repetitions  of  effort,  at 
length  gets  the  aptitude  of  using  its  hands  for  ordinary 
purposes.  But  this  faculty  once  secured,  serves  for  life  in 
all  the  ordinary  emergencies  of  action.  The  necessity 
for  new  and  varied  movements  involves  no  new  acquisi- 
tions ;  within  the  range  of  ordinary  activity  the  early  apti- 
tudes suffice.  But  if  in  any  case  manipulations  of  special 
delicacy  and  precision  are  required,  as  in  learning  to  draw, 
a  new  acquisition  must  be  made.  Yet  here  the  same 
thing  occurs.     The  new  acquirement  may  be  utilized  in 


rg  INTRODUCTION. 

Other  similar  applications ;  if  the  child  have  Hrst  learned 
to  draw,  the  aptitude  will  serve  also  in  learning  to  write. 

Again,  the  instrumental  performer,  by  long  drill,  ac- 
quires a  great  number  of  movements,  according  to  the 
range  of  his  musicat  sens.bility,  so  that  learning  new  pieces 
is  but  little  else  than  new  combinations  of  old  sequences — 
the  new  acquisition  being,  in  fact,  but  a  new  grouping  of 
old  acquisitions.  So  also  in  the  purely  intellectual  opera- 
tions. In  learning  geometry,  the  mind  having  grasped 
the  preliminary  definitions,  axioms,  and  postulates,  uses 
them  over  and  over  in  solving  the  successive  problems ; 
while  mathematical  genius  consists  mainly  in  the  ready 
ability  to  identify  the  old  elements  under  the  disguises  of 
the  new  cases.  In  fixing  the  conception  of  a  new  min- 
eral, plant,  or  animal,  the  naturalist  recalls  the  characteris- 
tics of  known  specimens  which  most  nearly  resemble  them, 
and  superadds  to  these  the  new  features.  The  same  thing 
holds  in  learning  languages.  The  mastery  of  Latin  re- 
duces the  labor  of  acquiring  Italian,  French,  and  Spanish, 
into  which  it  largely  enters ;  and  we  find  new  words  to  be 
easy  in  proportion  as  they  consist  of  old  familiar  articula- 
tions. In  historical  studies,  revolutions,  campaigns,  nego- 
tiations, and  political  measures,  are  repeated  by  the  same 
nation  at  successive  epochs,  and  by  one  government  after 
another,  so  that  a  new  history  is  but  a  varied  reading  of 
old  ones ;  the  really  new  features  bearing  but  a  small 
proportion  to  those  already  fixed  in  the  student's  mind. 
The  vast  mental  economy  which  would  arise  throughout 
civilization  by  the  general  adoption  of  decimal  coinage, 
"Teeights,  and  measures,  is  but  another  illustration  of  the 
principle  ;  a  few  simple  arithmetical  acquisitions  would 
gerve  the  requirements  of  all  who  deal  with  relations  of 
quantity.     In  short,  our  reason  has  been  aptly  defined  a« 


MENTAL    DISCIPLINE   IN    EDUCATION. 


19 


'the  power  of  using  old  facts  in  new  circumstances/ 
and  this  is  the  secret  of  the  production  of  vast  effects  with 
limited  resources.* 

Now  this  principle,  as  it  affords  the  true  key  to  intellec- 
tual progress,  must  become  the  organizing  law  of  educa- 
tion. We  find  that  extent  of  mental  attainment  depends, 
not  alone  upon  intellectual  effort,  but  upon  the  order  of 
relations  among  objects  of  thought.  Of  course,  menta 
capacity  is  the  first  factor  in  acquisition,  but  that  being 
given,  the  scale  of  possible  attainment  depends  absolutely 
upon  the  order  of  the  course  of  study.  Education  cannot 
make  capacity,  but  it  controls  the  conditions  by  which  the 
least  or  the  most  can  be  made  of  it.  If  the  methods  of 
study  be  such  that  the  mind  encounters  broad  breaks  in  its 
course,  and  is  abruptly  shifted  into  new  lines  of  effort,  so 
that  past  conceptions  are  not  carried  on  to  a  progressive 
unfolding,  mental  growth  is  checked  and  power  lost.  The 
extent  to  which  one  fact  or  principle  is  a  repetition  or  out 
growth  of  another,  in  the  serial  relation  of  subjects,  de- 
termines the  rate  of  mental  movement, which  can  only  be- 
come steady  and  rapid  in  continuous  ranges  of  effort.  As 
in  the  outward  world,  the  past  creates  the  future  along  un- 
broken lines  of  dynamic  sequence  and  causation,  so  in  the 
mental  world,  there  must  be  a  corresponding  continuity  of 
movement  by  which  the  past  creates  the  future  in  intellec- 
tual evolution. 

We  have  here  the  touchstone  of  educational  systems, 
and  the  fatal  condemnation  of  the  current  theory  of  dis- 
cipline. How  grossly  that  theory  violates  the  law  of  men- 
tal economy,  and,  indeed,  actually  provides  for  waste  of 
power,  will  be  apparent  by  glancing  briefly  at  its  origin. 
The   notion    of   mental    gymnastics  was    borrowed  from 

•  For  a  full  working  out  of  this  doctrine,  see  Bain's    "Senses  and  Intellect." 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

that  of  bodily  gymnastics.  In  early  times,  useful  laboi 
being  regarded  as  menial  and  degrading,  the  superior  classes 
sought  the  activity  needed  for  health  in  various  artificial 
exercises.  The  old  Greek  gymnastics  was  a  system  of 
athletic  exercises  cultivated  for  the  attainment  of  physical 
development,  and  had  no  reference  to  the  preparation  of 
men  for  the  occupations  of  industry.  The  ancient  philos- 
ophers held  that  it  was  as  degrading  to  seek  useful  knowl- 
edge as  to  practise  useful  arts ;  hence,  subjects  of  study 
were  chosen  as  intellectual  gymnastics  and  to  acquire  men- 
ial discipline,  and  this,  not  as  a  preparation  for  valuable 
mental  labor,  but  as  an  end  in  itself.  Not  the  game,  but 
the  excitement  of  the  chase ;  not  the  truth,  but  the  exhilara- 
tion of  its  pursuit,  were  the  mottoes  of  culture.  Under 
these  circumstances  no  vulgar  question  of  economy  could 
arise ;  mental  power  was  ostentatiously  wasted,  and  with 
the  necessary  consequences — truth  unsought  was  not 
found  ;  the  ends  of  culture  being  ignored,  there  was  neither 
conquest  of  nature  nor  progress  of  society. 

Not  only  does  the  principle  of  vicarious  discipline  in- 
volve enormous  mental  waste,  but  the  system  of  studies 
employed  to  secure  it  grossly  violates  the  great  law  of  ac- 
quisition, which  should  become  the  basis  of  education. 
That  system  is  neither  an  outgrowth  of  the  proper  educa- 
tion of  childhood,  nor  does  it  flow  on  into  the  intellectual 
life  of  manhood :  it  is  a  foreign  body  of  thought,  uncon- 
genial and  unafliliated,  thrust  into  the  academic  period,  and 
destroying  the  unity  and  continuity  of  the  mental  career. 
The  young  student  is  detached  from  all  his  early  mental 
connections,  expatriated  to  Greece  and  Rome  for  a  course 
of  years,  becomes  charged  with  antiquated  ideas,  and  then 
returns  to  resume  his  relation  with  the  onflowing  current 
of  events  in  his  own  age.     The  radical  defect  of  the  tra 


MENTAL    DISCIPLINE    IN    EDUCATION,  2I 

ditional  system  is,  that  it  fails  to  recognize  and  grasp  the 
controlling  ends  of  culture.  Misled  by  the  fallacy  that, 
through  a  scheme  of  aimless  exercises  for  discipline,  men^ 
tal  power  may  be  accumulated  for  universal  application,  it 
sees  no  necessity  of  organizing  education  with  explicit 
reference  to  ultimate  and  definite  purposes,  and  it  thus  for- 
feits its  right  of  control  over  the  educational  interests  of 
the  time.  For  that  there  are  great  and  well-defined  aims, 
revealed  with  more  clearness  in  this  age  than  ever  before, 
to  which  a  higher  mental  culture  should  be  subservient, 
does  not  admit  of  intelligent  question.  If  the  classical 
system  grasps  the  conception  of  education,  in  its  ends  as 
well  as  its  beginnings,  as  a  preparation  for  the  activities  of 
life ;  and  of  discipline,  as  the  formation  of  habits  to  guide 
a  constantly  unfolding  mental  career ;  and  of  knowledge, 
as  consisting  of  a  chain  of  relations,  along  which  the  mind 
is  to  move  in  accomplishing  that  career ;  if  it  unfolds  the 
order  of  the  world,  and  puts  the  student  in  command  of 
the  ripest  and  richest  results  of  past  thinking ;  if  it  quali- 
fies best  for  the  relations  of  parenthood,  citizenship,  and 
the  multiform  responsibilities  of  social  relation ;  if  it  equips 
for  the  intelligent  and  courageous  consideration  of  those 
vital  questions  which  the  progress  of  knowledge  and  aspi- 
ration are  forcing  upon  society  ;  if  it  fits  most  effectually 
for  these  supreme  ends,  then,  indeed,  it  affords  a  proper 
discipline  for  the  needs  of  the  time ;  but  if  the  student, 
after  having  faithfully  mastered  his  collegiate  tasks,  finds 
upon  entering  the  world  of  action,  that  his  acquisitions  are 
not  available — that  he  has  to  leave  them  behind  him  and 
begin  anew,  then  his  preparation  has  been  a  bad  one ;  time 
has  been  irretrievably  lost,  power  irrecoverably  wasted, 
and  the  chances  are  high  that  he  will  give  the  go-by  to 
modern  knowledge,  and  thin  down  his  intellectual  life  to 
the  languid  nursing  of  his  classical  memories. 


22 


INTRODUCTION. 


It  is  well  known  that,  in  numerous  cases,  the  success 
of  educated  men  may  be  directly  traced  to  neglect  of  the 
regular  college  studies,  or  to  their  neutralization  by  the 
vigorous  pursuit  of  other  subjects ;  and  equally  notorious 
th  .t  in  numberless  other  cases,  where  the  student  has  sur- 
rendered himself  to  college  influences  and  conquered  hi." 
cuniculum^  exactly  in  proportion  to  his  fidelity  has  been 
his  defeat.  He  has  mastered  a  disqualifying  culture.  In 
hundreds  of  instances  it  has  been  the  lot  of  the  writer  to 
listen  to  expressions  of  bitter  regret  on  the  part  of  college 
graduates  at  the  misdirected  studies  and  the  misapplied 
time  which  their  *  liberal  *  education  had  involved.  "  O 
that  I  had  some  knowledge  of  those  imminent  questions 
that  are  urging  themselves  on  public  attention,  in  place  of 
my  college  lumoer  !  "  is  a  stereotyped  exclamation  in  these 
cases.  And  this  turn  of  expression  discloses  the  worst 
aspect  of  the  matter,  for  the  lumber  cannot  be  got  rid  of. 
The  mind  is  not  a  reservoir  to  be  emptied  and  refilled  at 
pleasure.  The  student  has  not  been  preparing  a  soil  for 
future  sowing ;  he  has  sown  it,  and  to  extirpate  the  roots 
will  consume  half  a  lifetime.  In  the  most  plastic  period 
of  receptivity  he  has  been  making  acquisitions  and  forming 
habits  which,  by  coercing  his  attention  and  engrossing  his 
thoughts,  will  operate  powerfully  to  obstruct  subsequent 
mental  operations  \  for  if  they  do  not  help,  they  must  inev- 
itably hinder. 

In  the  preceding  pages,  after  pointing  out  some  of  the 
special  disciplinary  defects  of  the  traditional  scheme  of 
study,  I  have  endeavored  to  show  that  in  its  very  conception 
of  mental  training  there  is  involved  enormous  waste  of 
power,  and  in  its  course  of  study  a  total  non-recognition 
af  the  great  law  by  which  alone  the  highest  mental  at 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION.  2t 

tainment  can  be  reached.  I  have  also  shown  that  this 
erroneous  conception  of  discipline,  by  ignoring  the  great 
ends  of  culture,  and  the  adaptation  of  studies  to  them, 
not  only  wastes  power,  but  gives  a  false  preparation  fo'" 
life.  It  remains  now  to  indicate  how  these  errors  and  de 
fects  may  be  remedied  by  scientific  education. 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  this  culture  does  not  deny 
the  importance  of  mental  discipline,  but  only  the  wasteful 
policy  of  vicarious  discipline.  The  question  has  three  as- 
pects. The  ancients  employed  the  useless  fact  A  for  dis- 
ciplinary purposes,  and  ignored  the  useful  fact  B.  The 
adherents  of  the  current  theory  propose  to  learn  first  the 
useless  fact  A  to  get  the  discipline  necessary  to  acquire 
the  useful  fact  B  ;  while  a  rational  system  ignores  useless 
A  and  attacks  B  at  once,  making  it  serve  both  for  knowl- 
edge and  discipline.  The  ancient  view  was  more  reason- 
able than  that  which  has  grown  out  of  it.  It  wanted  one 
acquisition,  and  it  made  it ;  the  prevailing  method  wants 
one,  and  makes  two ;  and  as  it  costs  as  much  effort  to 
learn  a  useless  fact  as  a  useful  one,  by  this  method  half 
the  power  is  wasted. 

The  moment  that  the  conception  of  value  attaches 
to  power,  the  idea  of  its  economy  inevitably  arises,  and 
this  is  fatal  to  its  vicarious  application.  Hence  gymnas- 
tics are  never  thought  of  as  a  preparation  for  industrial 
occupation.  The  employer  who  should  resort  to  them 
would  quickly  come  to  bankruptcy,  for  he  knows  that  the 
laborer  has  but  a  limited  amount  of  power,  all  of  which  it 
is  necessary  to  utilize ;  and  he  understands  that  the  needed 
aptness  comes  in  the  regular  course  of  occupation,  and  in 
that  way  alone.  In  the  world  of  business,  where  results 
become  quickly  apparent,  and  a  wrong  policy  works  speedy 
disaster,  the  notion  of  discipline  for  a  special  activity,  and 


24  INTRODUCTION. 

not  through  it,  could  not  be  entertained,  and  it  oniy  lingers 
ill  the  world  of  mind  and  education  because  there  effects 
arr  more  remote,  complex,  and  indefinite,  and  the  conse- 
quences of  a  wrong  principle  are  less  readily  detected 
With  the  growing  perception  of  the  relation  between 
human  thought  and  human  life,  it  will  be  seen  that  by  far 
the  most  priceless  ot  all  things  is  mental  power ;  while  one 
of  the  highest  offices  of  education  must  be  strictly  to  econ- 
omize and  wisely  to  expend  it.  Science  made  the  basis 
of  culture,  will  accomplish  this  result. 

We  have  affirmed  the  broad  principle  of  mental  limita 
tions,  but  let  none  suppose  that  its  necessary  corollary  is 
narrow  and  stinted  mental  results.  It  has  been  explained 
how  this  consequence  is  to  be  escaped.  A  limited  outlay 
of  energy  with  results  so  vast  as  to  secnr  out  of  all  pro- 
portion with  it,  is  exactly  the  miraculous  problem  which 
Nature  has  solved.  It  was  at  first  supposed  that  prodig- 
io'is  quantities  of  power  were  required  to  work  the  At- 
lantic cable — an  error  which  probably  led  to  its  destruc- 
tion ;  but  electricians  have  been  recently  startled  by  the 
discovery  that  the  force  generated  in  a  lady's  thimble,  or 
even  in  a  percussion-cap,  is  sufficient  to  operate  the  ocean 
telegraph.  The  lesson  of  this  experience  is,  that  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  laws  of  power  is  essential  to  prevent  waste  of 
power ;  and  this  is  no  more  true  in  physical  dynamics  than 
in  mental.  Let  none  indulge  apprehensions  that  this  doc- 
trine of  limits  to  acquirement  darkens  the  future  of  educa- 
tion, or  derogates  from  man's  mental  dignity.  What  the 
human  mind  has  already  accomplished  is  our  starting-poii.t. 
Working  waywardly,  in  isolation,  by  arbitrary  methods, 
upon  chaotic  materials,  and  in  ignorance  of  the  mighty 
secret  of  its  power,  grand  results  have  nevertheless  been 
achieved,  and  they  are  the  indices  of  Attainment  under  the 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION.  25 

worst  conditions.  But  in  the  new  revelation  of  a  cosmi- 
cal  order,  and  of  the  correlation  and  interdependence  of  all 
truth.  Science  utters  a  pregnant  prophecy  of  the  mind's 
future  destiny,  and  vindicates  her  right  to  take  control  of 
its  future  unfolding. 

The  ideal  of  the  higher  education  demanded  by  the 
present  age,  especially  in  this  country,  where  it  is  becom- 
ing most  general,  is  a  scheme  of  study,  which,  while  it 
represents  the  present  state  of  knowledge,  and  affords 
a  varied  cultivation  and  a  harmonious  discipline,  shall  at 
the  same  time  best  prepare  for  the  responsible  work  of 
life.  For  this,  the  study  of  languages  and  mathematics  is 
necessary,  but  far  from  sufficient.  Other  sciences  are  to 
be  supplied  and  a  curriculum  framed,  which,  conforming  to 
the  true  logical  order  of  subjects  on  the  one  hand,  shall 
equally  conform  to  the  order  of  unfolding  the  mental 
faculties  on  the  other,  thus  reaching  an  integral  discipline 
through  living  and  applicable  knowledge. 

There  is  great  significance  in  the  fact  that  the  pre- 
vailing higher  culture  is  without  a  foundation.  Profess- 
ing to  devote  itself  exclusively  to  the  moulding  and  evo- 
lution of  mind — sinking  knowledge  itself  into  nothing- 
ness in  comparison  with  this  effect — its  method  does  not 
reach  back  to  those  beginnings  of  culture  which  far  out- 
weigh in  importance  all  subsequent  action.  And  this  is 
no  trifling  criticism  of  that  method.  Is  it  possible  for  a 
truly  philosophical  system  of  training  the  mental  powers 
to  have  been  organized  for  centuries  in  all  the  higher  in- 
stitutions, and  not  have  reacted  with  controlling  power 
upon  the  processes  of  primary  instruction  ?  Here  a  true 
method  must  begin,  and  here  scientific  education  does  be- 
gin. Commencing  early,  and  commencing  with  Nature,  it 
.ays  the  foundation  of  culture  in  the  systematic  exercise  of 


26  INTRODUCTION. 

the  observing  powers.  In  childhood  there  is  a  vast  capa- 
bility of  accumulating  simple  facts.  The  higher  forms  of 
mental  activity  not  having  come  into  exercise,  the  whole 
plastic  power  of  the  brain  is  devoted  to  the  storing  up  of 
perceptions,  while  the  vigor  of  cerebral  growth  insures  the 
highest  intensity  of  mental  adhesiveness.  The  capability 
of  grasping  relations  being  low,  it  makes  but  little  differ- 
ence at  first  what  objects  are  presented  to  attention  ;  words 
or  things,  with  meaning  or  without,  and  in  the  most  arbi- 
trary order,  stick  readily  in  the  memory.  Skilful  guidance 
at  this  period  is  of  the  very  highest  importance.  When 
curiosity  is  freshest,  and  the  perceptions  keenest,  and 
memory  most  impressible,  before  the  maturity  of  the  re- 
flective powers,  the  opening  mind  should  be  led  to  the  art 
of  noticing  the  aspects,  properties,  and  simple  relations 
of  the  surrounding  objects  of  Nature.  This  should  be 
guided  into  a  growing  habit,  and  the  young  pupil  gradually 
trained  to  know  how  to  observe,  and  what  to  observe 
among  all  the  objects  of  its  unfolding  experience.  It 
should  be  encouraged  to  collect  many  of  the  little  curiosi- 
ties which  awaken  its  attention,  and  required  carefully  to 
preserve  them  ;  but  to  do  all  this  judiciously  is  delicate 
work.  The  custodian  of  the  child  must  know  something 
of  the  objects  of  Nature,  and  much  of  the  nature  of  the 
young  pupil.  Above  all  other  things,  teachers  qualified  to 
do  this  work  are  the  desperate  need  of  the  age.  To  per- 
fect the  object-method,  and  train  instructors  to  its  discrim- 
inating use,  is  one  of  the  great  functions  of  Norma) 
Schools,  and  must  become  the  practical  basis  of  a  rational 
system  of  education.  Let  it  be  remembered  that  there  is 
nothing  forced  or  artificial  here :  the  scenes  of  childish 
pleasure  and  exuberant  activity  furnish  the  objects  of 
thought.     In  creating  an  interest  in  these  things  a  bent  ii 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION. 


27 


given  in  the  true  direction  ;  the  valuable  habit  of  observing 
and  seeking  is  formed,  while  the  numberless  disconnected 
shreds  of  knowledge  are  incipient  acquisitions,  which  will 
glow  with  time  into  the  ripened  forms  of  science. 

With  such  a  preparation,  the  transition  is  natural  to  the 
regular  study  of  the  sciences,  in  which  the  observing  and 
reasoning  powers  are  to  be  systematically  cultivated,  Foi 
this  purpose  the  first  to  be  taken  up  are  mathematics,  phys- 
ics, or  natural  philosophy,  and  chemistry,  as  they  deal 
with  the  clearest  and  simplest  conceptions,  and  depend 
upon  the  fewest  and  most  definite  conditions.  The  adap- 
tation of  mathematics  to  cultivate  deductive  reasoning  has 
been  noticed.  Physics  trains  equally  to  accuracy  and 
precision  of  thought ;  but,  beginning  with  observation,  it 
exercises  the  reason  inductively.  From  particulars  we 
pass  to  generals ;  from  observed  facts  to  principles,  by  the 
mental  process  of  induction,  which  is  a  powerful  instru- 
mentality. When  we  contemplate  the  vast  extent  of  the 
facts  which  form  the  body  of  the  various  sciences,  and  the 
mr.rvellous  rapidity  with  which  they  are  still  accumulating, 
the  task  of  their  acquisition  seems  appalling,  and  utterly 
beyond  all  grasp  of  the  intellect.  But  there  is  an  order- 
of  Nature  by  which  individual  facts  are  connected  and 
bound  together,  and  there  is  a  corresponding  capacity 
in  the  human  mind  of  seizing  upon  those  relations,  ot 
binding  the  facts  into  groups,  and  of  dealing  with  them, 
as  it  were,  at  wholesale  or  in  masses.  This  is  the  fac 
ulty  of  generalization,  by  which  wide-reaching  principles 
replace  or  represent  the  infinitude  of  details,  which  they 
mclude.  Indeed,  the  advance  of  science  essentially  con- 
sists in  the  successive  establishment  of  such  general  prin- 
ciples which  rise  one  above  another  in  higher  and  higher 
stages,  until  a  few  simple  laws  are  found  to  explain  and 


2}J  INTRODUCTION. 

represent  the  wide  range  of  phenomena  to  which  the) 
apply.  But  now  mark,  that  while  in  this  way  knowledge 
is  simplified,  the  mind  is  called  into  higher  action.  The 
abstraction  of  a  common  law  from  many  facts,  while  it 
lelieves  the  memory  of  the  burden  of  a  large  portion  of 
them,  makes  a  greater  demand  upon  the  understanding. 
In  proportion  as  knowledge  is  compressed  in  bulk,  its 
quality  becomes,  as  it  were,  more  intense ;  and  just  to  the 
degree  to  which  this  operation  is  carried,  is  greater  intel- 
lectual effort  required  to  master  it.  Thus,  in  gaining  com- 
mand of  the  facts  of  nature  and  rising  to  a  comprehension 
of  the  order  of  the  universe,  we  are  at  the  same  time  se- 
curing the  highest  and  most  salutary  form  of  mental  disci- 
pline ;  and  a  form  of  it,  it  may  be  added,  for  which  the 
traditional  system  of  culture  makes  no  provision. 

The  physical  sciences,  moreover,  afford  a  discipline  in 
deductive  reasoning,  the  same  as  mathematics,  but  of  a 
still  more  valuable  character.  For  while  mathematics 
deals  with  the  smallest  number  of  ideas,  those  of  space  and 
number,  which  may  be  abstracted  entirely  from  all  mate- 
rial existence,  physics  includes,  in  addition  to  these,  the 
conceptions  of  matter  and  force,  although  it  deals  with 
them  in  their  universal  properties  and  forms ;  and  it  thus 
comes  nearer  to  the  realities  of  experience.  Deduction  is 
the  most  common  and  practical  form  of  mental  activity. 
We  are  constantly  reasoning  from  our  general  notions  or 
opinions  to  particular  facts  and  circumstances.  Induction 
lays  the  mental  foundation  by  showing  us  how  correctly 
<o  arrive  at  these  general  notions  ;  deduction  guides  their 
constant  application ; — the  physical  sciences  afford  the 
best  "raining-ground  for  both. 

It  is  needless  to  dilate  here  upon  the  various  benefits, 
tioral  as  well  as  intellectual,  to  be  gained  by  the  system* 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE  IN   £DUCATION. 


29 


atic  pursuit  of  physical  studies,  as  they  are  abundantly 
illustrated  in  the  various  lectures  of  the  present  volume. 
I  may  refer,  however,  to  their  great  value  in  an  experi- 
mental point  of  view.  They  afford  scope  for  the  keenest 
and  closest  observation ;  they  link  thought  to  action,  and 
bring  the  results  of  thinking  to  inexorable  tests. 

The  mental  advantages  to  be  derived  from  a  more  thor- 
ough study  of  the  physical  sciences  have  been  very  clearly 
and  impressively  presented  in  a  late  discourse  by  Mr.  John 
Stuart  Mill,*  and  his  view  so  strongly  confirms  the  pres- 
ent argument  as  to  justify  extended  quotation : 

"  The  most  obvious  part  of  the  value  of  scientific  in- 
struction, the  mere  information  that  it  gives,  speaks  for  it- 
self. We  are  born  into  a  world  which  we  have  not  made  ; 
a  world  whose  phenomena  take  place  according  to  fixed 
laws,  of  which  we  do  not  bring  any  knowledge  into  the 
world  with  us.  In  such  a  world  we  are  appointed  to  live, 
and  in  it  all  our  work  is  to  be  done.  Our  whole  working 
power  depends  on  knowing  the  laws  of  the  world — in 
other  words,  the  properties  of  the  things  which  we  have 
to  work  with,  and  to  work  among,  and  to  work  upon. 
We  may  and  do  rely,  for  the  greater  part  of  this  knowl- 
edge, on  the  few  who  in  each  department  make  its  acqui- 
sition their  main  business  in  hfe.  But  unless  an  elemen- 
tary knowledge  of  scientific  truths  is  diffused  among  the 
public,  they  never  know  what  is  certain  and  what  i?  not, 
or  who  are  entitled  to  speak  with  authority  and  who  are 
not :  and  they  either  have  no  faith  at  all  in  the  testimony 
of  science,  or  are  the  ready  dupes  of  charlatans  and  im- 
postors. They  alternate  between  ignorant  distrust,  and 
blind,  often  misplaced,  confidence.  Besides,  who  is  there 
who  would  not  wish  to  understand  the  meaning  of  the 
common   physical   facts  that  take   place   under   his   eye  ? 

*  Inaugural  Address  delivered  to  the  University  of  St.  Andrew,  Februai^ 
I,  1867.     By  John  Stuart  MiU. 


p 


INTRODUCTION. 


Who  would  not  wish  to  know  why  a  pump  raises  water, 
why  a  lever  moves  heavy  weights,  why  it  is  hot  at  the 
tropics  and  cold  at  the  poles,  why  the  moon  is  sometimes 
dark  and  sometimes  bright,  what  is  the  cause  of  the  tides  ? 
Do  we  not  feel  that  he  who  is  totally  ignorant  of  these 
things,  let  him  be  ever  so  skilled  in  a  special  profession,  is 
not  an  educated  man  but  an  ignoramus  ?  It  is  surely  no 
small  part  of  education  to  put  us  in  intelligent  possession 
of  the  most  important  and  most  universally  interesting 
facts  of  the  universe,  so  that  the  world  which  surrounds 
us  may  not  be  a  sealed  book  to  us,  uninteresting  because 
unintelligible.  This,  however,  is  but  the  simplest  and 
most  obvious  part  of  the  utility  of  science,  and  the  part 
which,  if  neglected  in  youth,  may  be  the  most  easily  made 
up  for  afterward.  It  is  more  important  to  understand  the 
value  of  scientific  instruction  as  a  training  and  disciplining 
process,  to  fit  the  intellect  for  the  proper  work  of  a  human 
being.  Facts  are  the  materials  of  our  knowledge,  but  the 
mind  itself  is  the  instrument :  and  it  is  easier  to  acquire 
tacts,  than  to  judge  what  they  prove,  and  how,  through 
the  facts  which  wc  know,  to  get  to  those  which  we  want 
to  know. 

''  The  most  incessant  occupation  of  the  human  intellect 
throughout  life  is  the  ascertainment  of  truth.  Wc  arc 
always  needing  to  know  what  is  actually  true  about  some- 
thing or  other.  It  is  not  given  to  us  all  to  discover  great 
general  truths  that  are  a  light  to  all  men  and  to  future 
generations  ;  though  with  a  better  general  education  the 
number  of  those  who  could  do  so  would  be  far  greater 
than  it  is.  But  we  all  require  the  ability  to  judge  between 
the  conflicting  opinions  which  are  offered  to  us  as  vital 
truths ;  to  choose  what  doctrines  we  will  receive  in  the 
matter  of  religion,  for  example  ;  to  judge  whether  we 
ought  to  be  Tories,  Whigs,  or  Radicals,  or  to  what  length 
it  is  our  duty  to  go  with  each  ;  to  form  a  rational  convic- 
tion on  great  questions  of  legislation  and  internal  policy, 
and  on  the  manner  in  which  our  country  should  behave  to 
dependencies  and  to  foreign  nations.  And  the  need  we 
have  of  knowin;;  how  to  discriminate  truth,  is  not  con* 


MENTAL    DISCIPLINE   IN    EDUCATION. 


3» 


fined  to  the  larger  truths.  All  through  life  It  is  our  most 
pressing  interest  to  find  out  the  truth  about  all  the  matters 
we  are  concerned  with.  If  we  are  farmers  we  want  to 
find  what  will  truly  improve  our  soil ;  if  merchants,  what 
will  truly  influence  the  markets  of  our  commodities  ;  if 
judges,  or  jurymen,  or  advocates,  who  it  was  that  truly 
did  an  unlawful  act,  or  to  whom  a  disputed  right  truly  be- 
longs. Every  time  we  have  to  make  a  new  resolution  or 
alter  an  old  one,  in  any  situation  in  life,  we  shall  go  wrong 
unless  we  know  the  truth  about  the  facts  on  which  our 
resolution  depends.  Now,  however  different  these  searches 
for  truth  may  look,  and  however  unlike  they  really  are  in 
their  subject-matter,  the  methods  of  getting  at  truth,  and 
the  tests  of  truth,  are  in  all  cases  much  the  same.  There 
are  but  two  roads  by  which  truth  can  be  discovered  :  ob- 
servation, and  reasoning ;  observation,  of  course,  including 
experiment.  We  all  observe,  and  we  all  reason,  and 
therefore,  more  or  less  successfully,  we  all  ascertain  truths : 
but  most  of  us  do  it  very  ill,  and  could  not  get  on  at  all 
were  we  not  able  to  fall  back  on  others  who  do  it  better. 
If  we  could  not  do  it  in  any  degree,  we  should  be  mere 
instruments  in  the  hands  of  those  who  could  :  they  would 
be  able  to  reduce  us  to  slavery.  Then  how  shall  we  best 
learn  to  do  this  ?  By  being  shown  the  way  in  which  it 
has  already  been  successfully  done.  The  processes  by 
which  truth  is  attained,  reasoning  and  observation,  have 
been  carried  to  their  greatest  known  perfection  in  the 
physical  sciences.  As  classical  literature  furnishes  the 
most  perfect  types  of  the  art  of  expression,  so  do  the 
physical  sciences  those  of  the  art  of  thinking.  Mathe- 
matics, and  its  application  to  astronomy  and  natural  philos- 
ophy, are  the  most  complete  example  of  the  discovery  of 
truths  by  reasoning  ;  experimental  science,  of  their  discov- 
ery by  direct  observation.  In  ill  these  cases  we  know 
that  we  can  trust  the  operation,  because  the  conclusions 
to  which  it  has  led  have  been  found  true  by  subsequent 
trial.  It  is  by  the  study  of  these,  then,  that  we  may  hope 
to  qualify  ourselves  for  distinguishing  truth,  in  cases  where 
there  do  not  exist  the  same  ready  means  of  verification. 


3« 


INTRODUCTION. 


"  In  what  consists  the  principal  and  most  characteristic 
difference  between  one  human  intellect  and  another  ?  In 
their  ability  to  judge  correctly  of  evidence.  Our  direct 
perceptions  of  truth  are  so  limited ;  we  know  so  few 
things  by  immediate  intuition,  or,  as  it  used  to  be  called, 
by  simple  apprehension — that  we  depend  for  almost  all  oui 
valuable  knowledge,  on  evidence  external  to  itself;  and 
most  of  us  are  very  unsafe  hands  at  estimating  evidence, 
where  an  appeal  cannot  be  made  to  actual  eyesight.  The 
intellectual  part  of  our  education  has  nothing  more  impor- 
tant to  do  than  to  correct  or  mitigate  this  almost  universal 
infirmity — this  summary  and  substance  of  nearly  all  purely 
intellectual  weakness.  To  do  this  with  effect  needs  all 
the  resources  which  the  most  perfect  system  of  intellec- 
tual training  can  command.  Those  resources,  as  every 
teacher  knows,  are  but  of  three  kinds :  first,  models ;  sec- 
ondly, rules  ;  thirdly,  appropriate  practice.  The  models  of 
the  art  of  estimating  evidence  are  furnished  by  science  j 
the  rules  are  suggested  by  science ;  and  the  study  of  sci- 
ence is  the  most  fundamental  portion  of  the  practice.  .  .  . 
The  logical  value  of  experimental  science  is  comparatively 
a  new  subject,  yet  there  is  no  intellectual  discipline  more 
important  than  that  which  the  experimental  sciences  afford. 
Their  whole  occupation  consists  in  doing  well,  what 
all  of  us,  during  the  whole  of  life,  are  engaged  in  doing, 
for  the  most  part  badly.  All  men  do  not  affect  to  be 
reasoners,  but  all  profess,  and  really  attempt,  to  draw  in- 
ferences from  experience :  yet  hardly  any  one,  who  has 
not  been  a  student  of  the  physical  sciences,  sets  out  with 
any  just  idea  of  what  the  process  of  interpreting  expe- 
rience really  is.  If  a  fact  has  occurred  once  or  oftcner, 
and  another  fact  has  followed  it,  people  think  they  have 
got  an  experiment,  and  are  well  on  the  road  toward  show- 
ing that  the  one  fact  is  the  cause  of  the  other.  If  they 
did  but  know  the  immense  amount  of  precaution  neces- 
sary to  a  scientific  experiment ;  with  what  sedulous  care 
the  accompanying  circumstances  are  contrived  and  varied, 
so  as  to  exclude  every  agency  but  that  which  is  the  sub- 
ject of  the  experiment— or,  when  disturbing  agencies  can 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION.  n-j 

not  be  excluded,  the  minute  accaracy  with  which  their 
influence  is  calculated  and  allowed  for,  in  order  thai  the 
residue  may  contam  nothing  but  what  is  due  to  the  one 
agency  under  examination ;  if  these  things  were  attended 
to,  people  would  be  much  less  easily  satisfied  that  their 
opinions  have  the  evidence  of  experience ;  many  popular 
notions  and  generalizations  which  are  in  all  mouths,  would 
be  thought  a  great  deal  less  certain  than  they  are  supposed 
to  be ;  but  we  should  begin  to  lay  the  foundation  of  really 
experimental  knowledge,  on  things  which  are  now  the 
subjects  of  mere  vague  discussion,  where  one  side  finds  as 
much  to  say  and  says  it  as  confidently  as  another,  and 
each  person's  opinion  is  less  determined  by  evidence  than 
by  his  accidental  interest  or  prepossession.  In  politics,  for 
instance,  it  is  evident  to  whoever  comes  to  tl^e  study  from 
that  of  the  experimental  sciences,  that  no  political  conclu- 
sions of  any  value  for  practice  can  be  arrived  at  by  direct 
experience.  Such  specific  experience  as  we  can  have, 
serves  only  to  verify,  and  even  that  insufficiently,  the  con- 
clusions of  reasoning.  Take  any  active  force  you  please 
in  politics,  take  the  liberties  of  England,  or  free  trade ; 
how  should  we  know  that  either  of  these  things  conduced 
to  prosperity,  if  we  could  discern  no  tendency  in  the 
things  themselves  to  produce  it  ?  If  we  had  only  the  evi- 
dence of  what  is  called  our  experience,  such  prosperity  as 
we  enjoy  might  be  owing  to  a  hundred  other  causes,  and 
might  have  been  obstructed,  not  promoted,  by  these.  All 
true  political  science  is,  in  one  sense  of  the  phrase,  a  priori, 
being  deduced  from  the  tendencies  of  things,  tendencies 
known  either  through  our  general  experience  of  human 
nature,  or  as  the  result  of  an  analysis  of  the  course  of  his- 
tory, considered  as  a  progressive  evolution.  It  requires, 
therefore,  the  union  of  induction  and  deduction,  and  the 
mind  that  is  equal  to  it  must  have  been  well  disciplined  in 
both.  But  familiarity  with  scientific  experiment  at  leart 
does  the  useful  service  of  inspiring  a  wholesome  skepticism 
about  the  conclusions  which  the  mere  surface  of  experierce 
suggests  " 


34 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  discipline  of  observation  and  strict  reasoning  af- 
forded by  the  exact  sciences,  mathematics,  physics,  and 
chemistry,  pure  and  applied,  being  secured,  we  then  pass 
to  the  study  of  the  biological  sciences,  botany,  zoo^.ogy^ 
physiology,  geology.  A  new  order  of  truths  and  new  cir- 
cumstances of  knowledge  are  here  encountered,  to  which  the 
sciences  just  considered  are  an  indispensable  introduction, 
but  for  which,  the  mental  habits  they  form  are  not  an  ad- 
equate preparation.  We  are  still  carefully  to  observe,  still 
to  reason  from  facts  to  general  principles,  but  the  facts, 
though  equally  positive,  are  now  so  different — so  complex, 
inaccessible,  and  indefinite,  as  to  embarrass  inference,  and 
call  for  a  higher  exercise  of  the  judgment.  Experiment 
or  active  observation,  which  plays  so  prominent  a  part  in 
physics  and  chemistry,  is  here  greatly  limited  ;  we  cannot 
isolate  the  phenomena,  and  turn  them  round  and  round, 
and  inside  out,  so  as  to  compel  a  revelation  of  their 
secrets  :  hence,  in  proportion  as  the  sources  of  error  be- 
come more  numerous  and  fallacies  more  insidious,  a  sub- 
tler exercise  of  the  reason  is  demanded — more  circumspec- 
tion in  weighing  evidence  and  checking  conclusions,  and  a 
severer  necessity  for  suspension  of  judgment.  As  the  bio- 
logical sciences  deal  with  the  laws  of  life  and  the  phenom- 
ena of  living  beings,  man  in  his  animal  constitution  and 
relations,  is  included  in  their  subject-matter,  while  the  prob- 
lems presented  exercise  the  mind  in  a  manner  similar  to 
the  formation  of  judgments  upon  human  affairs.  Com- 
plete or  demonstrative  induction  being  impossible,  we  are 
compelled  to  form  conclusions  from  only  a  part  of  the 
facts  involved,  and  to  anticipate  the  agreement  of  the  rest. 
This  is  reasoning  from  analogy^  a  powerful  but  perilous 
mode  of  proceeding ;  one  which  we  are  compelled  con- 
stantly to  adopt  in  our  mental  treatment  of  the  concerns 


MENTAL    DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION.  05 

of  life,  and  for  whicn  biological  studies  are  eminently  suited 
to  give  the  requisite  discipline. 

Another  advantage  of  the  study  of  these  subjects  is 
afforded  by  the  comprehensiveness  and  perfection  of  their 
classifications.  No  other  subjects  compare  w^ith  zoology 
and  botany  in  these  respects.  Not  only  do  they  furnish 
inexhaustible  material  for  the  exercise  of  memory,  but  by 
the  presentation  of  facts  in  their  natural  relations,  they 
exercise  it  in  its  highest  and  most  perfect  form.  It  is 
maintained  by  Agassiz  that  classifications  in  natural  his- 
tory are  but  reports  of  the  order  of  Nature — expressions 
of  her  profoundest  plan  ;  and  he  even  goes  so  far  as  to  in- 
terpret them  as  a  divine  ideal  programme  of  constructions, 
of  which  the  living  vi^orld  is  but  the  execution.  However 
this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  they  open  to  us  the  broadest 
view  of  the  relations  and  harmonies  of  organic  nature, 
and  are  best  fitted  to  discipline  the  mind  in  dealing  with 
large  co-ordinations,  and  the  comprehensive  arrangement 
of  objects  of  thought,  whether  in  the  arts,  the  professions, 
business,  or  science.  But  here,  again,  I  may  say,  it  is  un- 
necessary to  expatiate  upon  advantages  which  the  reader 
will  find  more  fully  and  lucidly  treated  by  Professors  Hen- 
frey,  Huxley,  and  Paget,  in  the  body  of  the  present  work. 

Dr.  Whewell,  in  his  defence  of  the  absorbing  attention 
gtven  to  mathematics  and  physics,  in  the  University  of 
Cambridge,  has  urged  the  necessity  of  admitting,  as  me^ns 
of  education,  only  those  subjects,  the  truths  of  which  are 
demonstrated  and  settled  forever.  But  what  is  the  extent 
of  the  field  of  the  absolutely  unquestionable  ?  Math- 
ematics do  indeed  present  truths  upon  which  rational  be- 
ings can  never  disagree ;  but  supposing  that  the  student 
becomes  a  little  inquisitive,  and  ventures  to  ask  something 
about  the  grounds  and   origin  of  these  truths,  he  is  in- 


j6  INTRODUCTION. 

stantly  launched  into  the  arena  of  polemical  strife,  and  his 
teacher,  from  being  a  frigid  expositor  of  self-evident  prin- 
ciples, is  suddenly  transformed  into  an  ardent  partisan. 
Dr.  Whewell  has  been  the  life-long  champion  of  certain 
views  respecting  the  nature  of  mathematical  conceptions, 
which  are  sharply  contested,  and  have  certainly  no  more 
than  held  their  own  in  philosophical  conflict.  In  the 
field  of  physics,  also,  has  not  the  present  generation  wit- 
nessed one  of  the  deepest  and  most  comprehensive  revo- 
lutions which  the  history  of  science  records — the  accept- 
ance of  a  totally  new  view  of  the  nature  and  relations  of 
forces  ?  What,  indeed,  is  the  object  of  education,  the 
leading  out  of  the  mind,  if  not  to  arouse  thought  and  pro- 
voke inquiry,  as  well  as  to  direct  them  ?  Is  the  student's 
mind  a  tank  to  be  filled,  or  an  organism  to  be  quickened  ? 
It  may  be  well-pleasing  to  indolent  and  arrogant  peda- 
gogues never  to  have  their  assertions  questioned,  but  it  is 
wholesome  neither  for  themselves  nor  their  students. 

Important  as  may  be  the  mental  preparation  for  dealing 
with  certainties,  it  is  still  more  important  to  prepare  for 
dealing  with  uncertainties  :  to  ignore  this,  arrests  education 
at  an  inferior  stage,  and  but  ill  prepares  for  the  emergencies 
of  practical  life.  It  is  matter  of  notoriety  that  the  so- 
called  liberal  culture  is  no  adequate  protection  against  nu- 
merous fallacies  and  impostures  which  are  current  in  so- 
ciety j  and  to  so  great  an  extent  is  this  true  that  it  is  com- 
mon to  question  whether,  after  all,  for  our  real  needs,  edu 
cation  is  better  than  ignorance.  But  there  is  an  *  educated 
ignorance,*  which,  for  the  great  end  of  guiding  to  action 
and  ruling  the  conduct,  is  as  worthless  as  blank  ignorance. 
Take  the  charlatanries  of  medical  treatment;  take  the 
question  of  so-called  ^spiritual  manifestations,'  and  we  find 
persons  of  reputed  culture  and  good  sense  venturing  opin 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION. 


37 


ions,  adopting  practices,  and  professing  to  *  investigate,*  in 
the  completest  ignorance  of  all  the  conditions  of  thinking 
— all  the  canons  of  inquiry  which  have  conducted  to  truth 
in  this  high  and  complex  range  of  subjects. 

To  meet  these  and  kindred  emergencies  of  our  soci.u 
experience,  we  require  an  education  not  merely  in  dead 
languages,  mathematics,  and  physics,  with  perhaps  a  super- 
added smattering  of  physiology  and  geology,  but  such  a 
training  in  the  fundamental  organic  sciences  as  shall  con- 
Stitute  a  thorough  biological  discipline. 

The  direct  and  powerful  bearing  of  biological  studies 
upon  an  understanding  of  the  nature  and  relations  of  man 
has  been  so  well  stated  by  Mr.  Mill,  in  the  address  already 
referred  to,  in  speaking  of  the  educational  claims  of  physi- 
ology, that  I  cannot  forbear  making  another  extract ; 

"  The  first  is  physiology ;  the  science  of  the  laws  of 
organic  and  animal  life,  and  especially  of  the  structure  and 
functions  of  the  human  body  It  would  be  absurd  to  pre- 
tend that  a  profound  knowledge  of  this  difficult  subject 
can  be  acquired  in  youth,  or  as  a  part  of  general  educa- 
tion. Yet  an  acquaintance  with  its  leading  truths  is  one 
of  those  acquirements  which  ought  not  to  be  the  exclusive 
property  of  a  particular  profession.  The  value  of  such 
knowledge  for  daily  uses  has  been  made  familiar  to  us  all 
by  the  sanitary  discussions  of  late  years.  There  is  hardlv 
one  among  us  who  may  not,  in  some  position  of  authority, 
Le  required  to  form  an  opinion  and  take  part  in  public  ac- 
lion  on  sanitary  subjects.  And  the  importance  of  under- 
ftanding  the  true  conditions  of  health  and  disease — of 
knowing  how  to  acquire  and  preserve  that  healthy  habit  of 
body  which  the  most  tedious  and  costly  medical  treatment 
so  often  fails  to  restore  when  once  lost,  should  secure  a 
place  in  general  education  for  the  principal  maxims  of  hy- 
giene, and  some  of  those  even  of  practical  medicine.  For 
•"hose  who  aim  at  high  intellectual  cultivation,  the  study 


|tJJ  INTRODUCTION. 

of  physiology  has  still  greater  recommendations,  and  is,  in 
the  present  state  of  advancement  of  the  higher  studies,  a 
real  necessity.  The  practice  which  it  gives  in  the  study 
of  nature  is  such  as  no  other  physical  science  affords  in 
the  same  kind,  and  is  the  best  introduction  to  the  difficult 
questions  of  politics  and  social  life.  Scientific  education, 
apart  from  professional  objects,  is  but  a  preparation  for 
judging  rightly  of  Man,  and  of  his  requirements  and  in- 
terests.  But  to  this  final  pursuit,  which  has  been  called 
par  excellence  the  proper  study  of  mankind,  physiology  is 
the  most  serviceable  of  the  sciences,  because  it  is  the  near- 
est. Its  subject  is  already  Man :  the  same  complex  and 
manifold  being,  whose  properties  are  not  independent  of 
circumstance,  and  immovable  from  age  to  age,  like  those 
of  the  ellipse  and  hyperbola,  or  of  sulphur  and  phosphorus, 
but  are  infinitely  various,  indefinitely  modifiable  by  art  or 
accident,  graduating  by  the  nicest  shades  into  one  another 
and  reacting  upon  one  another  in  a  thousand  ways,  so  that 
they  are  seldom  capable  of  being  isolated  and  observed 
separately.  With  the  difficulties  of  the  study  of  a  being 
so  constituted,  the  physiologist,  and  he  alone  among  scien- 
tific inquirers,  is  already  familiar.  Take  what  view  wo 
will  of  man  as  a  spiritual  being,  one  part  of  his  nature  is 
far  more  like  another  than  either  of  them  is  like  any  thing 
else.  In  the  organic  world  we  study  nature  under  disad- 
vantages very  similar  to  those  which  affect  the  study  of 
moral  and  political  phenomena :  our  means  of  making  ex- 
periments are  almost  as  limited,  while  the  extreme  com- 
plexitv  of  the  facts  makes  the  conclusions  of  general 
reasoning  unusually  precarious,  on  account  of  the  vast 
number  of  circumstances  that  conspire  to  determine  even 
result.  Yet  in  spite  of  these  obstacles,  it  is  found  possi- 
ble in  physiology  to  arrive  at  a  considerable  number  of 
well-ascertained  and  important  truths.  This,  therefore,  is 
;in  excellent  school  in  which  to  study  the  means  of  over- 
coming similar  difficulties  elsewl)ere.  It  is  in  physiology, 
too,  that  we  arc  first  introduced  to  some  of  the  concep- 
tions which  play  the  greatest  part  in  the  moral  and  social 
sciences,  but  which  do  not  occur  at  all  in  those  of  inur* 


MENTAL    DISQTPJ^INE   IN    EDUCATION. 


39 


ganic  nature.  As,  for  instance,  the  idea  of  predisposition, 
and  of  predisposing  causes,  as  distinguished  from  exciting 
causes.  The  operation  of  all  moral  forces  is  immensely 
influenced  by  predisposition :  without  that  element,  it  is 
impossible  to  explain  the  commonest  facts  of  history  and 
social  life.  Physiology  is  also  the  first  science  in  which 
we  recognize  the  influence  of  habit — the  tendency  of 
something  to  happen  again  merely  because  it  has  happened 
before.  From  physiology,  too,  we  get  our  clearest  notion 
of  what  is  meant  by  development  or  evolution.  The 
growth  of  a  plant  or  animal  from  the  first  germ  is  the  typ- 
ical specimen  of  a  phenomenon  which  rules  through  the 
whole  course  of  the  history  of  man  and  society — increase 
of  function,  through  expansion  and  difi'erentiation  of  struc- 
ture by  internal  forces.  I  cannot  enter  into  the  subject  at 
greater  length  ;  it  is  enough  if  I  throw  out  hints  which 
may  be  germs  of  further  thought  in  yourselves.  Those 
who  aim  at  high  intellectual  achievements  may  be  assured 
that  no  part  of  their  time  will  be  less  wasted,  than  that 
which  they  employ  in  becoming  familiar  with  the  methods 
and  with  the  main  conceptions  of  the  science  of  organiza- 
tion and  life, 

''  Physiology,  at  its  upper  extremity,  touches  on  Psy- 
chology, or  the  Philosophy  of  Mind :  and  without  raising 
any  disputed  questions  about  the  limits  between  Matter 
arid  Spirit,  the  nerves  and  brain  are  admitted  to  have  so 
intimate  a  connection  with  the  mental  operations,  that  the 
student  of  the  last  cannot  dispense  with  a  considerable 
knowledge  of  the  first.  The  vahie  of  psychology  itself 
need  hardly  be  expatiated  upon  in  a  Scottish  university ; 
for  it  has  always  been  there  studied  with  brilliant  success. 
Almost  every  thing  which  has  been  contributed  from  these 
islands  toward  its  advancement  since  Locke  and  Berkeley, 
lias  until  very  lately,  and  much  of  it  even  in  the  present 
generation,  proceeded  from  Scottish  authors  and  Scottish 
professors.  Psychology,  in  truth,  is  simply  the  knowledge 
of  the  laws  of  human  nature.  If  there  is  any  thing  that 
deserves  to  be  studied  by  man,  it  is  his  own  nature  and 
hat  of  his  fellow-men :  and  if  it  is  worth  studying  at  all, 
4 


fO 


INTRODUCTION. 


it  is  worth  studying  scientifically,  so  as  to  reach  the  funda- 
mental laws  which  anderlie  and  govern  all  the  rest.  With 
regard  to  the  suitableness  of  this  subject  for  general  edu 
cation,  a  distinction  must  be  made.  There  are  certain 
observed  laws  of  our  thoughts  and  of  our  feelings  which 
rest  upon  experimental  evidence,  and,  once  seized,  are  a 
clue  to  the  interpretation  of  much  that  we  are  conscious 
of  in  ourselves,  and  observe  in  one  another.  Such,  for 
example,  are  the  laws  of  association.  Psychology,  so  far 
as  it  consists  of  such  laws  (I  speak  of  the  laws  them- 
selves, not  of  their  disputed  applications)  is  as  positive 
and  certain  a  science  as  chemistry,  and  fit  to  be  taught  as 
such." 

The  discipline  and  the  knowledge  conferred  by  study 
of  the  preceding  group  of  sciences  form  the  true  prepa- 
ration for  that  higher  class  of  studies,  mental,  moral,  po- 
litical, and  literary,  which  completes  the  course  of  a  true 
liberal  education.  Although  not  themselves  ranked  as 
sciences,  these  extensive  and  important  subjects  are  con 
stantly  becoming  more  and  more  scientific  in  their  con- 
ceptions and  methods,  and  hence  form  the  natural  sequel 
of  a  systematic  scientific  culture.  Physiology  passes  insen- 
sibly into  psychology,  the  central  science,  upon  which 
hinge  logic,  sociology,  political  economy,  history,  ethics, 
aesthetics,  and  literature.  Mental  phenomena  arc  mani- 
festations of  life,  and  their  laws  are  derivatives  of  the 
laws  of  lite ;  only  through  a  knowledge  of  the  former, 
therefore,  is  it  possible  to  reach  a  true  understanding  of 
the  latter.  Logic  treats  of  the  laws  of  evidence  and  proof, 
by  which  things  and  their  relations  are  truly  represented  in 
thought.*  Sociology  considers  the  relations  among  human 
'jcings  and  the  forces  which  act  upon  them  in  society,  and 
t  hence  only  become    possible  through  a  prior  knowledge 

•  See  page  41 


NE 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION. 


41 


Of  the  vital  and  mental  organization  of  man  ; — political 
economy,  a  branch  of  this  subject,  treating  of  industrial  and 
commercial  questions,  depends  upon  the  same  conditions. 
History  is  a  record  of  the  course  of  human  experience  in 
its  multiform  phases,  and  the  key  to  its  right  interpretation 
is  that  knowledge  of  the  character  of  the  Actor  and  the 
circumstances  of  action  which  it  is  the  prerogative  of  sci- 
ence alone  to  give.  Ethics,  or  moral  science,  determines 
the  principles  which  should  guide  the  right  ruling  of  con- 
duct, and  depends  upon  every  science  which  can  throw 
light  on  the  progress  of  the  intellect,  the  evolution  of  the 
emotions,  and  the  limits  of  moral  liberty  and  responsibility 
imposed  by  the  conditions  of  physical  organization  or  social 
circumstances.  ^Esthetics,  which  regards  the  beautiful  in 
nature,  and  gives  rise  to  the  fine  arts,  depends  upon  the 
laws  of  feeling  and  sensibility.  Its  principles  are  founded 
in  the  constitution  of  human  nature,  and  will  probably  be 
yet  reduced  to  a  scientific  system.  To  work  out  its  great 
ideas  of  '  unity,'  '  harmony,'  '  proportion,'  and  the  laws  of 
beauty,  it  awaits  a  better  psychology,  and  a  deeper  penetra- 
tion into  the  true  spirit  of  nature.  Literature  is  that  great 
body  of  expression  of  thought  upon  a  vast  variety  of  sub- 
jects, the  proper  judgment  of  which  depends  upon  the 
extent  and  accuracy  of  our  knowledge  of  the  truth  of 
things  in  reality,  conception,  and  expression. 

Thus  does  scientific  culture  reach  its  ultimate  and  ex- 
alted ends.  Its  course  is  along  a  line  of  connections 
which  are  causal  and  dynamic  ;  its  ideas  constantly  flowing 
on  and  widening  out  until  they  embrace  all  the  higher  sub- 
jects of  human  interest  and  inquiry.  The  order  of  de- 
pendence of  facts  and  principles  must  here  imperatively 
determine  the  true  order  of  study.  To  pass  directly  from 
languages  and  mathematics  to  the  complex  questions  of 


fa 


INTRODUCTION 


man  and  society,  is  to  violate  the  continuity  of  Nature** 
.ogic ;  to  carry  false  methods  of  reasoning  and  judgment 
into  the  highest  spheres  of  thought,  and  to  provide  for 
those  errors  of  theory  and  vices  of  practice  which  are  so 
lamentably  conspicuous  in  the  management  of  social  and 
public  affairs.  Only  by  that  scientific  discipline  which 
confers  a  steadfast  faith  in  the  universality  of  law,  and 
only  as  the  discipline  of  mathematical  and  physical  studies 
is  corrected  and  amplified  by  familiarity  with  biological 
conceptions,  will  it  be  possible  to  secure  a  class  of  think- 
ers who  can  grapple  with  the  upper  grade  of  questions,  in 
which  the  best  welfare  of  society  is  involved.  The  cul- 
ture afforded  by  these  higher  subjects  is  also  varied,  co- 
pious, and  quickening  They  give  breadth,  adaptiveness, 
and  enlarged  effect  to  the  discipline  of  the  preparatory 
sciences,  and  cultivate  mental  pliancy,  readiness  of  judg- 
ment, and  practical  sagacity. 

If  it  be  objected  that  this  scheme  is  too  vast,  I  reply, 
firsts  the  student  is  not  expected  to  grasp  the  details  of 
the  various  sciences,  but  only  to  master  their  leading  prin- 
ciples. At  least  one  science,  however,  should  be  thor-v 
oughly  acquired  by  every  well-educated  person — should  be 
carried  into  detail,  pursued  experimentally,  and  pushed  to 
ts  boundaries.  The  student  should  be  brought  face  to 
face  with  the  stern  problems  of  Nature,  and  taught  to 
wrestle  with  the  difficulties  she  offers ;  only  thus  can  he 
truly  know  how  much  is  meant  by  the  word  *  truth,'  and 
get  the  discipline  that  will  give  value  to  his  other  scientific 
studies.  But  while  the  thorough  attainment  of  a  single 
science  may  serve  for  training  in  method,  it  is  highly  desi- 
rable, and  in  a  mental  point  of  view  completely  possible, 
to  master  two,  say  inorganic  chemistry  and  botany.  They 
represent  separate  orders  of  scientific  truths  ;  both  are  at- 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   ^N   EDUCATION.  ^.j 

tractive  to  fascination,  and  their  opportunities  of  study  are 
universal. 

But,  secondly^  this  scheme  is  not  too  extended,  because 
its  arrangement  economizes  mental  power  in  the  highest 
degree.  Wasting  no  force  for  mere  discipline,  it  gives 
the  entire  energies  of  the  mind  to  the  direct  attainment  of 
knowledge,  while  the  natural  sequence  of  subjects,  and 
the  constant  reappearance  and  re-employment  of  old  acqui- 
sitions in  the  track  of  progress,  guarantees  a  rapidity  of 
mental  advancement  and  a  comprehensiveness  of  attain- 
ment without  parallel  in  past  experience.  With  a  rever- 
ent acquiescence  in  the  finite  limitations  of  mind,  science 
nevertheless  gives  the  clue  to  reaches  of  thought  and  splen- 
dors of  achievement  which  old  routinists  regard  with  in- 
credulity. When  Nature  becomes  the  subject  of  study, 
the  love  of  Nature  its  stimulus,  and  the  order  of  Nature 
its  guide,  then  will  results  in  education  rival  the  achieve- 
ments of  Science  in  the  fields  of  its  noblest  triumphs. 

What  now  is  the  basis  of  relative  valuations  among 
subjects  of  thought  ?  These  subjects  fall  into  three  cate- 
gories— 1st,  the  objects  of  Nature;  2d,  their  mental  rep- 
resentations ;  3d,  the  devices  for  marking  and  distinguishing 
them ;  and  the  various  terms  employed  to  express  these 
relations  may  be  thus  exhibited : 

Tl^e  External  World, Mind, Language. 

Things, Ideas, Words. 

Presentation, Re-presentation, Re-representation, 

Physics, Metaphysics, Philology. 

Objective  Realities,. .      Subjective  Symbols, Artificial  Symbols 

Objects  and  Relations                |  Nature's  Instruments  )  Man's  InstrumenCi 

to  be  known, j      for  the  work, f     for  the  work. 


^  INTRODUCTION. 

In  this  scheme  we  build  upon  the  solid  /bundation  of 
objective  nature,  and  place  first  that  which  we  find  first  in 
the  order  of  the  world — the  fabric  of  being  into  which  wc 
are  introduced  at  oirth — which  was  here  before  we  came 
and  will  remain  when  we  are  gone.  Man's  first  and  his 
life-long  concern  is  with  his  environment,  the  objective 
universe  of  God,  the  theatre  of  his  activity,  ownership,  am- 
bition, enjoyment,  and  the  multifarious  instrumentality  of 
his  experience  and  education.  It  Is  a  realm  of  law,  and 
therefore  he  can  understand  and  control  it :  a  scene  of  irre- 
sistible forces  which  crush  him  if  he  is  ignorant,  and  serve 
him  if  he  is  wise.  But  in  what  manner  are  created  intelli- 
gences to  deal  with  the  organism  of  nature  in  which  they 
have  such  varied  and  vital  interests  ?  By  its  ideal  re-crea- 
tion for  the  individual.  The  brain  duplicates  the  universe  in 
miniature ;  hence  the  passage  from  things  to  thoughts  ; 
from  objective  realities  to  their  ideal  symbols.  We  here, 
as  it  were,  take  one  step  away  from  outward  nature  and 
enter  a  world  of  representation,  which  is  of  great  impor- 
tance to  us  because  of  the  still  greater  importance  of  that 
which  it  represents.  The  overlooking  of  this  fact  has 
been  the  error  of  ages.  Men  have  been  fascinated  with 
the  curious  phenomenon  of  mental  representation,  and  have 
dwelt  upon  it  in  utter  neglect  of  that  which  is  represented. 
Confessedly  of  high  interest,  they  have  forgotten  that  it  is 
forever  subordinate  to  the  original  order  for  which  it  stands. 
Losing  themselves  in  the  contemplation  of  this  mystery, 
metaphysicians  have  often  fallen  into  a  kind  of  skept'cal 
hallucination  as  to  whether,  after  all,  there  are  any  realitiei 
back  of  the  ideas  ;  or,  granting  an  external  world,  they 
have  held  it  to  be  of  very  trifling  account,  as  all  its  truths 
are  to  be  excogitated  from  the  realm  of  pure  ideas. 
Modern   psychology  inverts  this  order,  and  teaches   not 


MENTAL    DISCIPLINE   IN    EDUCATION. 


45 


only  that  a  knowledge  of  nature  depends  upon  the  direct 
gtudy  of  nature,  but  that  our  knowledge  of  mind  itself,  of 
the  relations  among  ideas,  depends  upon  our  prior  under- 
standing of  the  relations  of  phenomena  and  of  the  laws  of 
action  in  the  environment.  It  was  this  danger  of  being 
beguiled  with  mere  symbols  that  called  forth  the  sagacious 
adjuration  of  Newton :  "  Oh,  physics,  beware  of  meta- 
physics ! "  Mr.  Mill  thus  points  out  the  mischievous  con- 
sequences of  the  error  in  the  case  of  logic : 

"  The  notion  that  what  is  of  primary  importance  to  the 
logician  in  a  proposition,  is  the  relation  between  the  two 
ideas  corresponding  to  the  subject  and  predicate  (instead  of 
the  relation  between  the  two  phenomena  which  they  respec- 
tively express),  seems  to  me  one  of  the  most  fatal  errors 
ever  introduced  into  the  philosophy  of  logic  ;  and  the  prin- 
cipal cause  why  the  theory  of  the  science  has  made  such 
inconsiderable  progress  during  the  last  two  centuries.  The 
treatises  on  logic,  and  on  the  branches  of  mental  philosophy 
connected  with  logic,  which  have  been  produced  since  the 
intrusion  of  this  cardinal  error,  though  sometimes  written 
by  men  of  extraordinary  abilities  and  attainments,  almost 
always  tacitly  imply  a  theory  that  the  investigation  of  truth 
consists  in  contemplating  and  handling  our  ideas,  or  con- 
ceptions of  things  themselves  ;  a  doctrine  tantamount  to 
the  assertion  that  the  only  mode  of  acquiring  knowledge 
of  nature  is  to  study  it  at  second-hand,  as  represented  in 
our  own  minds.  Meanwhile,  inquiries  into  every  kind  of 
natural  phenomena  were  incessantly  establishing  great  and 
fruitful  truths  on  most  important  subjects  by  processes  upon 
which  these  views  of  the  nature  of  Judgment  and  Reason- 
ng  threw  no  light."  * 

Another  step  brings  us  to  language — the  system  of 
marks   and   labels   for   thought — the    "  signs   of    ideas/* 

•  Mill's  "  System  of  Logic,"  vol.  i.,  p.  q8. 


^.6  INTRODUCTION. 

These  are  the  implements  furnished  by  art  foi  dealing 
with  ideas  of  things.  Through  the  association  of  ideas 
with  visible  symbols,  language  becomes  the  embodi- 
ment of  thought,  and  there  arises  a  relation  among 
words  growing  out  of  the  relations  among  ideas,  which 
again  grow  out  of  the  relations  among  things.  Both  rest 
upon  the  order  of  nature  which  science  reveals  ;  but  that 
order  is  twice  refracted  through  distorting  media,  and  al- 
though the  semblance  of  science  is  to  be  found  in  both, 
yet  so  many  imperfections  are  introduced  at  each  change, 
that  we  are  only  safe  by  keeping  the  intellectual  eye  stead- 
ily fixed  upon  the  primal  source  of  truth.  The  over- 
shadowing error  of  present  education,  is  the  propensity 
to  accept  words  in  place  of  the  ideas  and  things  for  which 
they  stand,  and  from  which  they  borrow  all  their  value. 
This*  false  estimate  has  been  well  characterized  by  the  ob- 
servation that  *'  words  are  the  counters  of  wise  men,  but 
the  money  of  fools."  Of  course,  most  of  the  realities 
of  knowledge  are  inaccessible  to  us ;  we  know  them  only 
through  their  verbal  signs ;  but  all  the  more  necessary  is 
it  that  we  should  never  forget  that  we  are  dealing  with 
third-hand  representations.  Words  are  the  tools  of  the 
thinker,  which  he  must  know  how  to  handle,  or  they  are 
useless  ;  but  the  sensible  mechanic  remembers  that  his 
tools  are  for  nothing  but  use,  and  hence  spends  the  least 
possible  time  in  grinding  and  polishing  them.  Words  are 
the  vehicles  of  thought ;  but  as  the  farmer,  who,  having 
ten-thousand  dollars  to  invest  in  his  business,  should  put 
nine-thousand  of  it  in  wagons  to  carry  his  produce  to 
market,  reserving  only  one-thousand  to  buy  a  farm,  would 
be  justly  chargeable  with  stupidity,  so  the  student  who 
invests  the  principal  share  of  his  time  and  power  in  va- 
riously-constructed vehicles  of  thought,  with  a  correspond 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION. 


4? 


ing  neglect  of  what  they  are  to  carry,  is  chargeable  with  an 
analogous  folly.  So  much  of  the  study  of  language,  and 
in  such  forms  as  are  necessary  to  its  intelligent  use,  is  de- 
manded in  education ;  but  while  this  places  the  study  upon 
explicit  grounds  of  utility,  by  the  principle  of  utility  shouic 
it  be  limited.  But  the  lingual  student,  captivated  by  the 
interest  of  word-studies,  loses  the  end  in  the  means.  A 
plough  was  sent  to  a  barbarian  tribe :  they  hung  it  over 
with  ornaments,  and  fell  down  and  worshipped  it.  In 
much  the  same  manner  is  language  treated  in  education.* 

The  old  scholasticism  sported  with  symbols,  ideal  and 
verbal ;  science  makes  a  serious  inquest  into  the  realities 
for  which  they  stand.  The  greatest  secular  event  in  his 
tory  was  this  inversion  of  values  among  subjects  of  thought, 
and  the  rise  of  science  and  conquest  of  nature  which  fol- 
lowed j  and  an  event  of  no  less  moment  will  be  the  car- 
rying out  of  this  great  intellectual  movement  in  education. 

As  respects  discipline,  these  considerations  present  the 
question  thus:  shall  it  consist  in  the  mere  futile  flourish- 
ing of  the  instruments  of  inquiry,  or  shall  it  be  obtained 
by  their  employment  upon  the  ends  for  which  they  ^re 
designed  ? 

In  this  discussion  I  use  the  term  Science  in  its  true  and 
largest  meaning,  which  is  nothing  less  than  a  right  inter- 
pretation of  nature — a  comprehension  of  the  workings  of 
law  wherever  law  prevails.  Knowledge  grows.  Its  germs 
are  found  in  the  lowest  grades  of  ignorance,  and  develop 
first   into   the   improved  form    of  common   information, 

*  "  There  is  no  study  that  could  prove  more  successful  in  producing  often 
tliorough  idleness  and  vacancy  of  mind,  parrot-like  repetition  and  sing-song 
knowledge,  to  the  abeyance  and  destruction  of  the  intellectual  powers,  as  well 
as  to  the  loss  and  paralysis  of  the  outward  senses,  than  our  traditional  study  and 
idolatry  of  language." — Professor  Half  or  3  Vaughan 


4-8  INTRODUCl.ON 

which  then  unfolds  into  the  definite  And  perfected  condi- 
tion  of  science.  It  matters  nothing  whether  the  subjects 
are  stones  or  stars,  hunian  souls,  or  the  complications  of 
social  relation  ; — that  most  perfect  knowledge  of  each 
which  reveals  its  uniformities  constitutes  its  special  science, 
and  that  comprehensive  view  of  the  relations  which  each 
sustains  to  all  in  the  cosmical  order,  realizes  the  broadesi 
mport  of  the  conception.  Science,  therefore,  is  the  rev- 
elation to  reason  of  the  policy  by  which  God  administers 
the  aHairs  of  the  world.  But  how  inadequate  is  the  con- 
ception of  it  generally  entertained,  even  among  men  of 
eminent  literary  culti\'ation,  who  seem  to  think  the  highest 
object  of  understanding  the  things  of  nature  is  merely  to 
slake  a  petty  curiosity  '  * 

A  common  form  of  misapprehension  is  that  which  limits 
science  to  the  consideration  of  '  mere  matter,*  and  then 
reproaches  it  with  being  a  cold  materializing  pursuit.  But 
science  deals  with  forces  as  well  as  matter ;  and  when 
those  who  make  this  reproach  will  indicate  just  how  much 
remains  when  the  actions  of  power  upon  matter  are  ex- 
hausted, they  will,  perhaps,  widen  their  conceptions  upon 

*  Mr.  Cvlyle  write* ;  **  For  manj  yean  h  tut  been  one  of  mj  romtint  re- 
grets, that  no  schoolmatter  of  mine  had  a  knowledge  of  natural  history,  so  6r 
at  least  m  to  hare  taught  me  the  grasses  that  grow  by  the  wayside,  and  the  litdl 
winged  aad  wingjeat  ndghbois  that  are  continually  meeting  me,  with  a  taluta- 
tioa  wluch  I  cannot  answer,  at  things  are  I  Why  didn't  somebody  teach  me  tha 
1 1  111  null  MM,  too,  and  make  me  at  home  in  the  starry  hearent,  which  are  d> 
ways  oTcrliead,  and  which  I  don't  half  know  to  this  day  i  I  lore  to  praphcuy 
that  there  will  come  a  time,  when  not  in  Edinburgh  only,  but  in  all  Scottkk 
and  European  towns  and  Tillages,  the  schoolmaster  will  be  strictly  required  to 
femtm  these  two  capabilitiet  (ndther  Greek  nor  Latin  more  strict !)  and  that  no 
*agennoas  little  denixen  of  this  nnirerse  be  tbence/brward  dchaiied  from  hit 
l%ht  of  bberty  in  these  two  departments,  and  doomed  to  look  oa  them  aa  if 
•croti  grated  fences  all  his  life  t  **  No  hint  a  here  given  of  that  tnaacepder 
•Her  of  truth  to  which  surrounding  objects  are  bat  the  portals. 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION. 


49 


ihe  subject.  Not  only  do  the  great  lines  of  scientiric 
thought  converge  to  the  supreme  end  of  elucidating  the 
regnant  subjects  of  man  and  society,  but  its  influence  is 
powerfully  felt  even  in  the  highest  regions  of  philosophical 
speculation.*  Yet  it  is  by  denying  this,  and  insisting  that 
science  consists  in  collecting  stones,  labelling  plants,  and 
dabbling  in  chemical  messes,  that  the  adherents  of  tradition 
strive  to  render  it  obnoxious  to  popular  prejudice.  In  de- 
fending the  policy  of  the  Great  English  Schools  which 
contemptuously  ignore  almost  the  whole  body  of  modern 
knowledge,  the  able  Head-master  of  Rugby  puts  the  case 

*  Professor  Masson,  in  his  lively  litde  work,  "  Recent  Bridsh  Philosophy," 
remarks  :  "  In  no  age  so  conspicuously  as  in  our  own  has  there  been  a  crowding 
in  of  new  scientific  conceptions  of  all  kinds  to  exercise  a  perturbing  influence  on 
Speculative  Philosophy.  They  have  come  in  almost  too  fast  for  Philosophy's 
powers  of  reception.  She  has  visibly  reeled  amid  their  shocks,  and  has  not  yet 
recovered  her  equilibrium.  Within  those  years  alone  which  we  have  been  en- 
gaged in  surveying  there  have  been  developments  of  native  British  science,  not 
to  speak  of  influxes  of  scientific  ideas,  hints,  and  probabilities  from  without,  in 
the  midst  of  which  British  Philosophy  has  looked  about  her,  scared  and  bewil- 
dered, and  has  felt  that  some  of  her  oldest  statements  about  herself,  and  som.e 
of  the  most  important  terms  in  her  vocabulary,  require  re-explication.  I  thmk 
that  I  can  even  mark  the  precise  year  1848  as  a  point  whence  the  appearance 
of  an  unusual  amount  of  unsteadying  thought  may  be  dated — as  if,  in  that  year 
of  simultaneous  European  irritability,  not  only  were  the  nations  agitated  politi- 
cally, as  the  newspapers  saw,  but  conceptions  of  an  intellectual  kind  that  hai 
long  been  forming  diemselves  underneath  in  the  depths  were  shaken  up  to  the 
lurface  in  scientific  journals  and  books.  There  are  several  vital  points  on  which 
no  one  can  now  think,  even  were  he  receiving  four  thousand  a  year  for  doing 
80,  as  he  might  very  creditably  have  thought  seventeen  years  ago.  There  have 
been  during  that  period,  in  consequence  of  revelations  by  scientific  research  in 
this  direction  and  in  that,  some  most  notable  enlargements  of  our  views  of  phys- 
ical nature  and  of  history — enlargements  even  to  the  breaking  down  of  what 
had  formerly  been  a  waU  in  the  minds  of  most,  and  the  substitution  on  that  side 
of  a  sheer  vista  of  open  space.  But  there  is  no  need  of  dating  from  1848,  or 
from  any  other  year  in  particular.  In  all  that  we  have  recently  seen  of  tha 
kind  there  has  been  but  the  prolongation  of  an  action  from  Science  upon  Philo*' 
ophy  that  had  been  going  on  for  a  considerable  time  before." 


50 


INTRODUCTION. 


on  the  explicit  ground  that  science  deals  only  with  the 
lower  utilities,  while  classical  studies  carry  us  up  to  the 
sphere  of  life  and  man  ;  that  science  only  instructs,  while 
they  humanize.  But  we  have  seen  that  such  a  view  is 
indefensible.  Science  being  the  most  perfect  form  of 
thought,  and  man  its  proper  subject,  the  sharply-defined 
question  is,  whether  he  is  to  be  studied  by  the  lower  or  the 
higher  method.  Is  the  most  thorough  acquaintance  with 
humanity  to  be  gained  by  cutting  the  student  off  from  the 
life  of  his  own  age,  and  setting  him  to  tunnel  through  dead 
languages,  to  get  such  imperfect  and  distorted  glimpses  as 
he  may  of  man  and  society  in  their  antiquated  forms  ;  or  by 
equipping  him  with  the  best  resources  of  modern  thought, 
and  putting  him  to  the  direct  and  systematic  study  of  men 
and  society  as  they  present  themselves  to  observation  and 
experience.  In  all  other  departments  it  is  held  desirable, 
as  far  as  possible,  to  place  directly  before  the  student  his 
materials  of  inquiry  :  why  abandon  the  principle  in  the  case 
of  its  highest  application  ? 

Our  question  thus  assumes  another  aspect :  for  the  best 
discipline  of  the  human  mind,  shall  we  make  use  of  those 
higher  forms  and  completer  methods  of  knowledge  which 
constitute  the  science  of  the  present  age,  or  shall  we  use 
the  lower  and  looser  knowledge  and  cruder  methods  of 
the  past  ? 

Science  also  has  great  advantage,  as  a  means  of  mental 
discipline,  in  the  incentives  to  which  it  appeals  for  arousing 
mental  activity,  its  motives  to  effort  being  such  as  the  pu- 
pil can  be  made  most  readily  to  appreciate  and  feel.  The 
reasons  for  studying  the  dead  languages  are  not  such  as  to 
tct  with  inspiring  force  upon  beginners :  hence  motives  to 
exertion  have  largely  to  be  supplied  by  external  authority, 


MENTAL   DISCIPLINE   IN  EDUCATION. 


'SI 


ivhich  necessitates  in  the  school-discipline  a  decided  co« 
ercive  element,  while  those  who  administer  it,  having  little 
sympathy  with  '  new-light '  notions  about  making  study 
pleasurable,  lighten  the  student's  tasks  by  the  enlivening 
assurance  that  wearisome  toil  is  evermore  the  price  of  great 
results. 

This  is  the  old  ascetic  misconception  of  the  controlling 
aims  of  life — false  everywhere,  fatal  in  education.  The 
free  and  healthy  exercise  of  the  faculties  and  functions  is 
so  pleasurable  as  to  be  universally  spoken  of  as  a  '  play '  ; 
who  then  has  the  right  to  turn  it  into  dreary  and  repulsive 
task-work  ?  The  love  of  enjoyment  is  the  deepest  and 
most  powerful  impulse  of  our  nature,  and  the  educational 
system  which  does  not  recognize  and  build  upon  it  violates 
the  highest  claim  of  that  nature.  The  first  thing  to  be 
done  by  the  teacher  is  to  awaken  the  pupil's  interest,  to 
engage  his  sympathies  and  kindle  his  enthusiasm,  for  these 
are  the  motors  of  intellectual  progress  ;  it  is  then  easy  to 
enchain  his  attention,  to  store  his  mind  with  knowledge, 
and  carry  mental  cultivation  up  to  the  point  of  discipline. 

This  is  of  the  first  importance.  Flogging  has  been  the 
accompaniment  of  education  for  centuries ;  and  although 
the  humanizing  agencies  are  slowly  bringing  us  out  of  this 
barbaric  dispensation,  yet  the  penal  policy,  or  that  which 
makes  the  fear  of  pain,  in  one  shape  or  other,  the  chief 
incentive  to  effort,  is  still  prevalent.  This  not  only  ap- 
peals to  the  lowest  motives,  but  is  self-defeating.  Pain- 
ful feelings  are  anti-vital,  depressing,  fatal  to  mental  spon- 
taneity, and  therefore  a  hindrance  to  acquisition  :  agreeable 
emotions,  on  the  other  hand,  are  stimulating,  and  favor 
nervous  impressibility  and  spontaneous  impulsion.  The 
instinctive  love  of  pleasurable  activity  which  is  so  marked 
in  youth  becomes  therefore  a  most  powerful  means  of  men- 


s» 


INTRODUCTION. 


tal  improvement.  Government  appeals  to  the  dread  of 
punishment  as  a  motive  to  right  conduct ;  but  who  will 
compare  the  influence  it  thus  exerts  upon  the  beneficent 
activities  of  society  with  the  general  stimulation  to  this 
result  which  springs  from  the  desire  of  happiness  ?  A 
scientific  system  of  culture,  which  deals  with  the  imme- 
diate objects  and  the  living  agencies  of  the  world,  is  suited 
to  employ  this  higher  class  of  motives.  The  interest  of  an 
unperverted  mind  in  the  things  of  twenty  centuries  ago  can 
never  equal  its  interest  in  the  things  of  to-day.  It  can- 
not for  a  moment  be  admitted  that  an  empty  and  useless 
shell  of  a  fact  has  the  same  relation  to  the  mind  that  a  liv- 
ing and  applicable  one  has.  Nothing  can  arouse,  quicken, 
and  mould  it  like  the  realities  with  which  it  has  to  deal.  It 
has  been  well  said  that  *'  everywhere  throughout  nature  we 
find  faculties  developed  through  the  performance  of  those 
functions  which  it  is  their  office  to  perform,  not  through 
artificial  exercises  devised  to  fit  them  for  those  functions." 
A  system  of  culture,  therefore,  which  ignores  the  thou- 
sand immediate  pressures  and  solicitations  upon  feeling  and 
thought,  by  which  human  beings  are  stirred,  can  neither 
shape  the  mind  into  harmony  with  its  actual  circumstances, 
nor  reach  the  deepest  springs  of  impulse  and  exertion. 
The  intellect  follows  the  lead  of  the  heart ;  and  with  the 
slow  emergence  of  right  ideas  respecting  the  uses  of  the 
world,  we  shall  discover  that  the  real  scene  of  human 
action  and  enjoyment  is  also  the  true  source  of  inspiration 
and  of  the  noblest  incentives  to  effort.  The  end  of  a 
rational  culture  being  to  adjust  the  student's  relations  to 
his  own  age,  it  will  employ  for  the  purpose  all  those  sub- 
jects which  come  home  to  him  most  directly,  and  that 
these  are  best  fitted  for  rousing  and  sustaining  a  pleasurable 
mental  activity  is  both  declared  by  reason  and  confirmed 
by  experience. 


MENTAL  DISCIPLINE   IN   EDUCATION.  ^o 

And  this  leads  me  finally  to  observe  that  a  mental  cul- 
ture, based  upon  science,  and  applied  to  the  great  questions 
of  the  time,  will  give  a  type  of  mental  discipline  marked 
by  the  elements  of  vigor  and  courage,  and  suited  to  brace 
the  mind  for  the  serious  vi^ork  which  comes  before  it  with 
the  advance  of  society.  In  this  respect  the  classical  cul- 
tivation is  so  faulty  as  hardly  to  deserve  the  name  of  dis- 
cipline. Its  ideal  is  European,  and  is  shaped  into  accord- 
ance with  the  requirements  of  the  European  system :  it 
is  that  of  the  refined  and  elegant  scholar,  fitted  for  medita- 
tive retirement  in  some  cloistered  seclusion  or  '  sacred 
shade,'  immersed  in  the  past,  and  disinclined  to  meddle 
with  the  present.  But  what  Sydney  Smith  calls  "the 
safe  and  elegant  imbecility  of  classical  learning,"  is  not 
the  preparation  needed  by  the  cultivated  mind  of  this 
country.  Here  all  the  cumbrous  machinery  for  taking  care 
of  people  and  superseding  thought — Monarchy,  Nobility, 
and  State-Church,  are  gone,  and  we  are  thrown  back  upon 
first  principles,  to  work  out  the  great  problem  of  a  self 
governing  society,  for  weal  or  for  woe.  The  finished 
classical  scholar  blinks  the  issues,  and  shirks  the  responsi- 
bilities of  his  time.  He  is  disgusted  with  the  '  noise  and 
confusion '  of  this  degenerate  utilitarian  age,  and  longs  to 
bury  himself  in  the  quietness  of  the  past.  "  In  propor 
tion  as  the  material  interests  of  the  present  moment  be- 
come more  and  more  engrossing,  more  and  more  tyran- 
nical in  their  exactions,  in  the  same  proportion  it  becomes 
more  necessary  that  man  should  fall  back  on  the  common 
interests  of  humanity,  and  free  himself  from  the  tram- 
mels of  the  present  by  living  in  the  past,"  says  the  advo- 
cate of  the  English  universities.  Dr.  Donaldson.  But  this 
will  not  do  here.  Not  to  '  fall  back,'  but  to  press  forward 
should   be  the   motto  of   American   education.      Not  to 


54 


INTRODUCTION. 


escape  the  present  and  live  in  the  past,  but  resolutely  to 
accept  the  present,  thanking  God  for  its  opportunities,  and 
to  live  rather  in  the  future,  is  the  high  requirement  of  men- 
tal duty.  And  herein  is  the  character  of  the  two  systems 
shown,  that  while  the  one  looks  forever  backward,  tht 
other  leads  steadfastly  forward.  Science,  therefore,  pier- 
cing the  future,  and  working  toward  it  through  the  pres- 
ent, engages  naturally  with  those  great  subjects  of  public 
irtterest  which  are  no  longer  to  be  postponed  or  evaded. 

The  classicists  are  fond  of  presenting  the  issue  as  be 
tween  liberal  culture  and  money-making,  and  triumph- 
antly contrast  the  refined  and  generous  feelings  which  clus- 
ter around  the  former,  with  the  vulgar  and  sordid  motives 
which  characterize  the  latter.  But  the  real  issue  is  far 
different  from  this.  The  mind  of  our  age  is  confronted 
with  a  host  of  urgent  questions,  such  as  the  Perils  of  Mis- 
government,  the  Limits  of  Legislation,  the  Management 
of  Criminals,  of  the  Insane,  the  Congenitally  Defective, 
and  the  Pauper  Class ;  the  operation  of  Charities,  the 
Philosophy  of  Philanthropy,  the  relations  of  Sex  and 
Race,  International  Ethics,  the  Freedom  of  Trade,  the 
Rights  of  Industry,  Property  in  Ideas,  Public  Hygiene, 
Primary  Education,  Religious  Liberty,  the  Rights  of  In- 
vention, Political  Representation,  and  many  others,  which 
inosculate  and  interfuse  into  the  great  total  of  practical 
inquiry  which  challenges  the  intellect  of  our  times  ;  and  it 
is  this  which  the  classical  scholar  evades,  when  he  shrinks 
from  the  present  and  retires  into  the  past.  And  well  he 
may  j  for  the  mastery  of  the  languages  and  literatures  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  and  culture  in  unprogressive  studies, 
furnish  neither  suitable  ideas  nor  mental  habits  for  this 
kind  of  work.  Science,  grounding  itself  in  the  order  and 
truth  of  nature,  armed  with  the  appropriate  knowledge,  and 


MENTAL    DISCIPLINE    IN   EDUCATION. 


55 


inspired  with  the  hope  of  a  better  future,  to  which  it  sees 
all  things  tending,  enters  the  great  field  as  properly  its  own, 
and  will  train  its  votaries  to  that  breadth  of  view,  that 
robust  boldness  of  treatment,  and  that  patient  and  dispas- 
sionate temper  which  the  imminent  questions  of  the  times 
so  decisively  demand. 

In  his  late  instructive  lecture  on  the  "  Development  of 
Ideas  in  Physical  Science,"  Professor  Liebig  shows  that  it 
has  been  a  slow  organic  growth,  depending  upon  deeper 
conditions  than  the  mere  favor  or  opposition  of  Church  or 
State.  He  shows  that  in  Greece  the  progress  of  science 
was  arrested  by  its  slave-system ;  points  out  the  necessity 
of  abounding  wealth  to  give  leisure  for  thought  and  cul- 
ture, and  the  importance  of  those  social  conditions  which 
bring  into  intimate  intercourse  all  classes  of  thinkers  and 
workers,  upon  the  mutual  co-operation  of  which  the  ad- 
vance of  science  and  of  society  depends.  He  says : 
"  Freedom^  that  is  the  absence  of  all  restrictions  which 
can  prevent  men  from  using  to  their  advantage  the  powers 
which  God  has  given  them,  is  the  mightiest  of  all  the 
conditions  of  progress  in  civilization  and  culture ; "  and 
he  adds  that,  "  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  among  the 
peoples  of  the  North  American  Free  States,  all  the  con- 
ditions exist  for  their  development  to  the  highest  point  of 
culture  and  civilization  attainable  by  man." 

These  are  weighty  considerations  for  the  educators  of 
this  country.  Institutions  are  but  expressions  of  ideas  and 
habits  ;  and  the  European  policy,  governmental  and  eccle- 
siastical, is  grounded  upon  a  culture  suited  to  its  neces- 
sities, and  which  has  grown  up  with  it  in  the  course  of 
ages.  Both  idolize  the  past ;  both  worship  precedent  and 
authority,  and  both  dread  independent  inquiry  into  first 
principles :    one    recoils    from    Freedom,    as    the    othei 


^6  INTRODUCTION. 

from  Science.  Freedom  and  Science,  on  the  other  hand, 
have  had  a  coeval  destiny ;  have  suffered  together,  and 
grown  together.  Both  break  from  prescription  and  throw 
themselves  upon  Nature,  and  the  watchword  of  both  is 
Progress,  which  consists  not  in  rejecting  the  past,  but  in 
subordinating  and  outgrowing  it,  in  assimilating  and  reor- 
ganizing its  truth,  and  leaving  behind  its  obsolete  forms. 
In  the  last  century  we  threw  off  the  trammels  of  the  re- 
pressive system,  and  entered  upon  the  experiment  of  Free 
Institutions ;  but  it  avails  little  to  shift  the  external  forms 
if  the  old  ideas  are  not  replaced  by  new  growths  of  thought 
and  feeling.  Our  system  of  Popular  Education  is  the  first 
great  constructive  measure  of  National  Progress,  and  this 
has  vet  to  be  moulded  to  its  purposes  through  a  system  of 
higher  institutions,  organized  into  harmony  with  the  genius 
of  American  circumstances  and  the  great  requirements  of 
the  period. 


In  the  preceding  pages  I  have  quoted  Mr.  J.  S.  Mill's 
able  presentation  of  the  claims  of  Scientific  Studies  ;  but 
lest  I  be  accused  of  partiality  in  the  use  of  his  authority, 
it  ic  proper  to  add  that  in  the  same  address  he  makes  also 
a  strong  argument  for  the  Classics.  It  is  not  pertinent 
here  to  criticise  this  branch  of  his  argument,  as  the  claims 
of  the  classics  are  put  less  on  the  usual  ground  of  *  disci- 
pline *  than  on  certain  high  utilities  of  scholarship.  But 
while,  as  the  reader  has  seen,  Mr.  Mill  urges  the  impor- 
tance of  Scientific  Studies  /or  a/i,  an  examination  of  his 
argument  for  the  Classics  will  show  that  it  is  applicable 
only  lo  those  who,  like  himself,  are  professional  scholars, 
and  devote  their  lives  to  Philological,  Historical,  or  Criti- 
cal Studies. 


ON   THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  THE 
STUDY   OF   PHYSICS. 

A  LECTURE  DELIVERED  AT  THE  ROYAL  INSTITUTION 
OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 

BY 

JOHN  TYNDALL,  LL.D.,  F.RS. 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  PHYSICS. 


There  is  a  word  in  the  title  of  this  Lecture  which  does 
not  clearly  convey  the  idea  by  which  I  shall  be  guided 
in  its  delivery.  I  hold  in  my  hand  a  soiled  proof  of  the 
syllabus  of  the  present  course,  and  the  title  of  the  present 
Lecture  is  there  stated  to  be  "  On  the  Importance  of 
the  Study  of  Physics  as  a  Means  of  Education."  The 
corrected  proof,  however,  contains  the  following  title: 
— "  On  the  Importance  of  the  Study  of  Physics  as  a 
Branch  of  Education."  Small  as  this  editorial  altera- 
tion may  seem,  the  two  words  appear  to  me  to  suggest 
two  radically  distinct  modes  of  viewing  the  subject  be- 
fore us.  The  term  Education  is  sometimes  applied  to  a 
single  faculty  or  organ,  and  if  we  know  wherein  the 
education  of  a  single  organ  or  faculty  consists,  this 
knowledge  will  enable  us  to  form  a  clearer  notion  re- 
garding the  education  of  the  sum  of  all  the  faculties,  or 
of  the  mind.  When,  for  example,  we  speak  of  the 
education  of  the  voice,  what  do  we  mean }  There  are 
certain  membranes  at  the  top  of  the  windpipe  which  are 
capable  of  being  thrown  into  vibration  by  the  air  forced 
between  them  from  the  lungs,  and  thus  caused  to  pro- 
duce sound.  These  membranes  are,  to  some  extent, 
under  the  control  of  the  will :  it  is  found  that  they  can 


bo  PROFESSOR  TYNDALL 

be  so  modified  by  exercise  as  to  produce  notes  of  a 
clearer  and  more  melodious  character,  and  this  exercise 
we  call  the  education  of  the  voice.  We  may  choose  for 
our  exercise  a  new  song  or  an  old  song,  a  festive  song 
or  a  solemn  chant;  and,  the  education  of  the  voice  being 
tlie  object  we  have  in  view,  the  songs  may  be  regarded 
as  the  means  by  which  this  education  is  accomplished. 
I  think  this  expresses  the  state  of  the  case  more  clearly 
than  if  we  were  to  call  the  songs  a  branch  of  education. 
Regarding  also  the  education  of  the  human  mind  as  the 
improvement  and  development  of  the  mental  faculties, 
I  consider  the  study  of  Physics  to  be  a  means  towards 
the  attainment  of  these  objects.  Of  course,  from  this 
point  of  view,  I  degrade  Physics  into  an  implement  of 
culture,  and  I  mean  to  do  so,  to  a  g^eat  extent.  View- 
ing the  development  of  the  mental  faculties  as  the  end 
of  mental  education,  it  will  be  my  endeavour  to  state  to 
you  some  of  the  claims  of  Physical  Science  as  a  means 
towards  the  attainment  of  this  end. 

I  do  not  think  that  it  is  the  mission  of  this  age,  or  of 
any  other  particular  age,  to  lay  down  a  system  of  edu- 
cation which  shall  hold  good  for  all  ages.  The  basis 
of  human  nature  is,  perhaps,  permanent,  but  not  so  the 
forms  under  which  the  spirit  of  humanity  manifests 
itself.  It  is  sometimes  peaceful,  sometimes  warlike, 
sometimes  religious,  sometimes  sceptical,  and  history  is 
simply  the  record  of  its  mutations. 

"The  eternal  Pan 
Wlio  layeth  the  world's  incessant  plan 
Ilalteth  never  in  one  shape. 
But  for  ever  doth  escape 
Into  new  forms." 

This  appears  to  be  the  law  of  things  throughout  the 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSICS.  6l 

aniverse,  and  it  is  therefore  no  proof  of  fickleness  or 
destructiveness,  properly  so  called,  if  the  implements 
of  human  culture  change  with  the  times,  and  the  require- 
ments of  the  present  age  be  found  different  from  those 
of  the  preceding.  Unless  you  are  prepared  to  say  that 
the  past  world,  or  some  portion  of  it,  has  been  the  final 
expression  of  human  competency;  that  the  wisdom  ot 
man  has  already  reached  its  climax ;  that  the  intellect 
of  to-day  possesses  feebler  powers,  or  a  narrower  scope 
than  the  intellect  of  earlier  times ;  you  cannot,  with 
reason,  demand  an  unconditional  acceptance  of  the 
systems  of  the  past,  nor  are  you  justified  in  divorcing 
me  from  the  world  and  times  in  which  I  live,  and  con- 
fining my  conversation  to  the  times  gone  by.  Who  can 
blame  me  if  I  cherish  the  belief  that  the  world  is  still 
young  ;  that  there  are  great  possibilities  in  store  for  it ; 
that  the  Englishman  of  to-day  is  made  of  as  good  stuff, 
and  has  as  high  and  independent  a  vocation  to  fulfil,  as 
had  the  ancient  Greek  or  Roman  ?  While  thankfully 
accepting  what  antiquity  has  to  offer,  let  us  never  forget 
that  the  present  century  has  just  as  good  a  right  to  its 
forms  of  thought  and  methods  of  culture  as  any  former 
centuries  had  to  theirs,  and  that  the  same  sources  of 
power  are  open  to  us  to-day  as  were  ever  open  to 
humanity  in  any  age  of  the  world. 

In  the  earliest  religious  writings,  we  find  man  described 
as  a  mixture  of  the  earthy  and  the  divine.  The  exist- 
ence of  the  latter  implies,  in  his  case,  that  of  the  former: 
and  hence  the  holiest  and  most  self-denying  saint  must, 
to  a  certain  extent,  protect  himself  against  hunger  and 
cold.  But  every  attempt  to  restrict  man  to  the  dominion 
of  the  senses  has  failed,  and  will  continue  to  fail.  He  is 
the  repository  of  forces  which  push  him  beyond  the 


52  PROFESSOR  TYNDALL 

world  of  sense.  He  has  an  intellect  as  well  as  a  palate, 
and  the  demands  of  tlie  latter  being  satisfied,  the  former 
inf'vitably  puts  in  its  claim.  We  cannot  quench  these 
desires  of  the  intellect.  They  are  stimulated  by  the 
phenomena  which  surround  us  as  the  body  is  by  oxygen; 
and  in  the  presence  of  these  phenomena  we  thirst  for 
knowledge  as  an  Arab  longs  for  water  when  he  smells 
the  Nile.  The  Chaldean  shepherds  could  not  rest  con- 
tented with  their  bread  and  milk,  but  found  that  they 
had  other  wants  to  satisfy.  The  stars  shed  their  light 
upon  the  shepherd  and  his  flock,  but  in  both  cases 
with  very  different  results.  The  quadruped  cropped  the 
green  herbage  and  slept  contented ;  but  that  power 
which  had  already  made  man  the  lord  of  the  quadruped 
was  appealed  to  night  after  night,  and  thus  the  intellec- 
tual germ  which  lay  in  the  nature  of  these  Chaldeans 
was  stimulated  and  developed. 

Surely,  it  might  be  urged,  if  man  be  not  made,  and 
stars  scattered,  by  guess-work,  there  is  strong  reason  for 
assuming  that  it  was  intended  that  mental  power  should 
be  developed  in  this  way.  But  if  this  be  granted,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  we  have  the  very  highest  sanction 
for  the  prosecution  of  physical  research.  Sanction,  in- 
deed, is  a  term  too  weak  to  express  the  inference  sug- 
gested by  a  comparison  of  Man's  powers  with  his  position 
upon  earth ;  it  points  to  an  imperative  command  to 
search  and  to  examine,  rather  than  to  a  mere  toleration 
of  physical  inquiry. 

The  term  Physics,  as  made  use  of  in  the  present 
Lecture,  refers  to  that  portion  of  natural  science  which 
lies  midway  between  astronomy  and  chemistry.  The 
former,  indeed,  is  Physics  applied  to  masses  of  enormous 
weight,  while  the  latter  is  Physics  applied  to  atoms  and 


ON   THE  STUDY   OF   PHYSICS.  63 

molecules.  The  subjects  of  Physics  proper  are,  there- 
fore, those  which  lie  nearest  to  human  perception : — the 
light  and  heat  of  the  sun,  colour,  sound,  motion,  the 
loadstone,  electrical  attractions  and  repulsions,  thunder 
and  lightning,  rain,  snow,  dew,  and  so  forth.  The  senses 
of  Man  stand  between  these  phenomena,  between  the 
external  world,  and  the  world  of  thought.  He  takes 
his  facts  from  Nature  and  transfers  them  to  the  domain 
of  mind :  he  looks  at  them,  compares  them,  observes 
their  mutual  relations  and  connexions,  and  thus  brings 
them  clearer  and  clearer  before  his  mental  eye,  until, 
finally,  by  a  kind  of  inspiration,  he  alights  upon  the 
cause  which  unites  them.  This  is  the  last  act  of  the 
mind,  in  this  centripetal  direction,  in  its  progress  from 
the  multiplicity  of  facts  to  the  central  cause  on  which 
they  depend.  But,  having  guessed  the  cause,  he  is  not 
yet  contented  :  he  now  sets  out  from  his  centre  and 
travels  in  the  other  direction  :  he  sees  that  if  his  guess 
be  true,  certain  consequences  must  follow  from  it,  and 
he  appeals  to  the  law  and  testimony  of  experiment 
whethei"  the  thing  is  so.  Thus  he  completes  the  circuit 
of  thought, — from  without  inward,  from  multiplicity 
to  unity,  and  from  within  outward,  from  unity  to  multi- 
plicity. He  traverses  the  line  between  cause  and  effect 
both  ways,  and,  in  so  doing,  calls  all  his  reasoning 
powers  into  play.  The  mental  effort  involved  in  these 
processes  may  be  justly  compared  to  those  exercises  of 
the  body  which  invoke  the  co-operation  of  every  muscle, 
and  thus  confer  upon  the  whole  frame  the  benefits  of 
healthy  action. 

The- first  experiment  a  man  makes  is  a  physical  ex- 
periment :  the  suction-pump  is  but  an  imitation  of  the 
first  act  of  every  new-born  infant.     Nor  do  I  think  it 


64  PROFESSOR  TYNDALL 

calculated  to  lesson  that  infant's  reverence,  or  to  make 
him  a  worse  citizen,  when  his  riper  experience  shows 
him  that  the  atmosphere  was  his  helper  in  extracting 
the  first  draught  from  his  mother's  breast.  The  child 
grows,  but  is  still  an  experimenter:  he  grasps  at  the 
moon,  and  his  failure  teaches  him  to  respect  distance. 
At  length  his  little  fingers  acquire  sufficient  mechanical 
tact  to  lay  hold  of  a  spoon.  He  thrusts  the  instrument 
into  his  mouth  ;  hurts  his  little  gums,  and  thus  learns 
the  impenetrability  of  matter.  He  lets  the  spoon  fall, 
and  jumps  with  delight  to  hear  it  rattle  against  the  table. 
The  experiment  made  by  accident  is  repeated  with  in- 
tention, and  thus  the  young  Newton  receives  his  first 
lessons  upon  sound  and  gravitation.  There  are  pains 
and  penalties,  however,  in  the  path  of  the  young  in- 
quirer :  he  is  sure  to  go  wrong,  and  Nature  is  just  as 
sure  to  inform  him  of  the  fact  He  falls  down  stairs, 
bums  his  fing^;rs,  cuts  his  hand,  scalds  his  tongue,  and 
in  this  way  learns  the  conditions  of  his  physical  well 
being.  This  is  Nature's  way  of  proceeding,  and  it  is 
wonderful  what  progress  her  pupil  makes.  His  enjoy- 
ments for  a  time  are  physical,  and  the  confectioner's 
shop  occupies  the  foreground  of  human  happiness ;  but 
the  blossoms  of  a  finer  life  are  already  beginning  to 
unfold  themselves,  and  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect 
dawns  upon  the  boy.  He  begins  to  see  that  the  present 
condition  of  things  is  not  final,  but  depends  upon  one 
that  has  gone  before,  and  will  be  succeeded  by  another. 
He  becomes  a  puzzle  to  himself;  and  to  satisfy  his 
newiy-awakened  curiosity,  asks  all  manner  of  incon- 
venient questions.  The  needs  and  tendencies  of  human 
nature  express  themselves  through  these  early  yearnings 
of  the  child.     He  desires  to  know  the  character  and 


ON  THE   STUDY   OF  PHYSICS.  65 

causes  of  the  phenomena  presented  to  him ;  and  unless 
this  desire  has  been  granted  for  the  express  purpose  of 
having  it  repressed,  unless  the  attractions  of  natural 
phenomena  be  like  the  blush  of  the  forbidden  fruit,  con- 
ferred merely  for  the  purpose  of  exercising  our  self- 
denial  by  letting  them  alone  ;  then  I  claim  for  the  study 
of  Physics  the  recognition  that  it  answers  to  an  impulse 
implanted  by  Nature  in  the  human  constitution,  and 
he  who  would  oppose  such  study  must  be  prepared  to 
exhibit  the  credentials  which  authorize  him  to  contra- 
vene Nature's  manifest  designs.  Such  credentials  were 
never  given  ;  and  the  opposition,  where  it  exists,  is  in 
most,  if  not  in  all  cases,  due  to  the  fact,  that  at  the 
time  when  the  opponent  of  Science  was  beginning  to 
inquire  like  the  little  boy,  it  was  so  arranged  by  human 
institutions  that  the  train  of  thought  suggested  by 
natural  objects  shojld,  in  his  case,  be  utterly  sup- 
planted by  another.  But  is  this  unavoidable  ?  Is  the 
knowledge  of  grammatical  concord  and  government  so 
utterly  antagonistic  to  the  scientific  discernment  of 
the  same  two  principles  in  Nature,  as  to  render  the  com- 
plete extrusion  of  the  one  necessary  to  the  existence  of 
the  other  ? 

A  few  days  ago,  a  Master  of  Arts,  who  is  still  a  young 
man,  and  therefore  the  recipient  of  a  modern  education, 
stated  to  me  that  for  the  first  twenty  years  of  his  life  he 
had  been  taught  nothing  regarding  Light,  Heat,  Mag- 
netism, or  Electricity :  twelve  of  these  years  had  been 
spent  among  the  ancients,  all  connexion  being  thus 
severed  between  him  and  natural  phenomena.  Now, 
we  cannot,  without  prejudice  to  humanity,  separate  the 
present  from  the  past.  The  nineteenth  century  strikes 
its  roots  into  the  centuries  gone  by,  and  draws  nutriment 


b6  PROFESSOR  TYNDALL 

from  them.  The  world  cannot  afford  to  lose  the  record 
of  any  great  deed  or  utterance  ;  for  such  deeds  and  such 
utterances  are  prolific  throughout  all  time.  We  cannot 
yield  the  companionship  of  our  loftier  brothers  of  an- 
tiquity,— of  our  Socrates  and  Cato, — whose  lives  provoke 
us  to  sympathetic  greatness  across  the  interval  of  two 
thousand  years.  As  long  as  the  ancient  languages  are 
the  means  of  access  to  the  ancient  mind,  they  must 
ever  be  of  priceless  value  to  humanity  ;  but  it  is  as  the 
avenues  of  ancient  thought,  and  not  as  the  instruments 
of  modern  culture,  that  they  are  chiefly  valuable  to  Man. 
Surely  these  avenues  might  be  kept  open  without  de- 
manding such  sacrifices  as  that  above  referred  to.  We 
have  conquered  and  posse.ssed  ourselves  of  continents  of 
land,  concerning  which  antiquity  knew  nothing  ;  and  if 
new  continents  of  thought  reveal  themselves  to  the 
exploring  human  spirit,  shall  we  not  possess  them  also? 
In  these  latter  days,  the  study  of  Physics  has  given  us 
glimpses  of  the  methods  of  Nature  which  were  quite 
hidden  from  the  ancients,  and  it  would  be  treason  to 
the  trust  committed  to  us,  if  we  were  to  sacrifice  the 
hopes  and  aspirations  of  the  Present  out  of  deference  to 
the  Past. 

At  an  agricultural  college  in  Hampshire,  with  which  I 
was  connected  for  some  time,  and  which  is  now  con- 
verted into  a  school  for  the  general  education  of  youth, 
a  Society  was  formed  among  the  boys,  which  met  weekly 
for  the  purpose  of  reading  reports  and  papers  upon 
various  subjects.  The  Society  had  its  president  and 
treasurer;  and  abstracts  of  its  proceedings  were  pub- 
lished in  a  little  monthly  periodical  issuing  from  tiie 
school  press.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  features  of 
these   weekly    meetings   was,    that   after    the    general 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  PHYSICS.  67 

business  had  been  concluded,  each  member  of  the 
Society  enjoyed  the  right  of  asking  questions  on  any 
subject  on  which  he  desired  information.  The  questions 
were  either  written  out  previously  in  a  book  devoted  to 
the  purpose,  or,  if  a  question  happened  to  suggest  itself 
during  the  meeting,  it  was  written  upon  a  slip  of  paper 
and  handed  in  to  the  Secretary,  who  afterwards  read  all 
the  questions  aloud.  A  number  of  teachers  were  usually 
present,  and  they  and  the  boys  made  a  common  stock 
of  their  wisdom  in  furnishing  replies.  As  might  be 
expected  from  an  assemblage  of  eighty  or  ninety  boys, 
varying  from  eighteen  to  eight  years  old,  many  extraor- 
dinary questions  were  proposed.  To  the  eye  which  loves 
to  detect  in  the  tendencies  of  the  young  the  instincts  of 
humanity  generally,  such  questions  are  not  without  a 
certain  philosophic  interest,  and  I  have  therefore  thought 
it  not  derogatory  to  the  present  course  of  Lectures  to 
copy  a  few  of  these  questions,  and  to  introduce  them 
here.     They  run  as  follows  : — 

What  are  the  duties  of  the  Astronomer  Royal .-' 

What  is  frost  ? 

Why  are  thunder  and  lightning  more  frequent  in 
summer  than  in  winter  ? 

What  occasions  falling  stars  ? 

What  is  the  cause  of  the  sensation  called  "pins  and 
needles" } 

What  is  the  cause  of  waterspouts  .-• 

What  is  the  cause  of  hiccup  ? 

If  a  towel  be  wetted  with  water,  why  does  the  wet 
portion  become  darker  than  before  .'' 

What  is  meant  by  Lancashire  witches  ? 

Does  the  dew  rise  or  fall  ? 

What  is  the  principle  of  the  hydraulic  press  } 


68  PROFESSOR  TYNDALL 

Is  there  more  oxygen  in  the  air  in  summer  than  in 
winter  ? 

What  are  those  rings  which  we  see  round  the  gas  and 
sun  ? 

What  is  thunder  ? 

How  is  it  that  a  black  hat  can  be  moved  by  forming 
round  it  a  magnetic  circle,  while  a  white  hat  remains 
stationary  ? 

What  is  the  cause  of  perspiration  ? 

Is  it  true  that  men  were  once  monkeys  ? 

What  is  the  difference  between  the  soul  and  the  mindt 

Is  it  contrary  to  the  rules  of  Vegetarianism  to  eat 
eggs? 

In  looking  over  these  questions,  which  were  wholly 
unprompted,  and  have  been  copied  almost  at  random 
from  the  book  already  alluded  to,  we  see  that  many  of 
them  are  suggested  directly  by  natural  objects,  and  are 
not  such  merely  as  had  an  interest  conferred  on  them 
by  previous  culture.  Now  the  fact  is  beyond  the  boy's 
control,  and  so  certainly  is  the  desire  to  know  its  cause. 
The  sole  question  then  is,  is  this  desire  to  be  gratified  oi* 
not  ?  Take,  for  example,  the  case  of  the  wetted  towel, 
which  at  first  sight  appears  to  be  one  of  the  most 
unpromising  questions  in  the  list  Shall  we  tell  the 
proposer  to  repress  his  curiosity,  as  the  subject  is  im- 
proper for  him  to  know,  and  thus  interpose  our  wisdom 
to  rescue  the  boy  from  the  consequences  of  Nature's 
implanting  a  desire  which  acts  to  his  prejudice  ?  Or, 
recognising  the  propriety  of  the  question,  how  are  we  to 
answer  it  ?  It  is  impossible  to  do  so  without  reference 
to  the  laws  of  optics — impossible  to  answer  it  without 
making  the  boy  to  some  extent  a  natural  philosopher. 
You  may  say  that  the  effect  is  due  to  the  reflection  oi 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  PHYSICS.  6g 

light  at  the  common  surface  of  two  media  of  different 
refractive  indices.  But  this  answer  presupposes  on  the 
part  of  the  boy  a  knowledge  of  what  reflection  and  re- 
fraction are,  or  reduces  you  to  the  necessity  of  txplaining 
them.  On  looking  more  closely  into  the  matter,  we  find 
that  our  wet  towel  belongs  to  a  class  of  phenomena 
exhibited  by  tabasheer  and  hydrophane,  which  have 
long  excited  the  interest  of  philosophers.  These  bodies 
are  opaque  when  dry,  but  when  dipped  into  water  or 
beech-nut  oil  they  become  transparent.  The  towel  is 
white  for  the  same  reason  that  snow  is  white,  that  foam 
is  white,  that  pounded  quartz  or  glass  is  white,  and  that 
the  salt  we  use  at  table  is  white.  On  quitting  one 
medium  and  entering  another,  a  portion  of  light  is 
always  reflected,  but  with  this  restriction,  the  media  must 
possess  different  refractive  indices.  Thus,  when  we  im- 
merse glass  in  water,  light  is  reflected  from  the  common 
surface  of  both,  and  it  is  this  light  which  enables  us  to 
see  the  glass.  But  take  a  transparent  solid  and  immerse 
it  in  a  liquid  of  the  same  refractive  index  as  itself,  it 
will  immediately  disappear.  I  remember  once  dropping 
the  eyeball  of  an  ox  into  water;  it  vanished  as  if  by 
magic,  a  bystander  actually  supposing  that  the  mass 
had  been  instantly  dissolved.  This,  however,  was  not  the 
case,  and  a  comparison  of  the  refractive  index  of  the 
vitreous  humour  with  that  of  water  cleared  up  the  whole 
matter.  The  indices  were  identical,  and  hence  the  light 
pursued  its  way  through  both  bodies  as  if  they  formed 
one  continuous  mass.  In  the  case  of  snow,  powdered 
quartz,  or  salt,  we  have  a  transparent  solid  body  mixed 
with  air ;  at  every  transition  from  solid  to  air,  or  from 
air  to  solid,  a  portion  of  light  is  reflected;  this  takes 
place  so  often  that  the  light  is  wholly  intercepted,  and 


70  PROFESSOR  TYNDALL 

thus  from  the  mixture  of  two  transparent  bodies  we 
obtain  an  opaque  one.  The  case  of  the  tovrel  is  pre- 
cisely similar.  The  tissue  is  composed  of  semi-trans- 
parent vegetable  fibres,  with  the  interstices  between 
them  filled  with  air ;  repeated  reflection  takes  place  at 
the  limiting  surfaces  of  air  and  fibre,  and  hence  the 
towel  becomes  opaque  like  snow  or  salt  But  if  we  fill 
the  interstices  of  the  towel  with  water,  we  diminish  the 
reflection ;  a  portion  of  the  light  enters  the  mass,  and 
the  darkness  of  the  towel  is  due  to  its  increased  trans- 
parency. Thus  the  hydrophane,  tabasheer,  the  tracing 
paper  used  by  engineers,  and  many  other  considerations 
of  the  highest  scientific  interest,  are  involved  in  the 
simple  enquiry  of  this  unsuspecting  little  boy. 

Again,  take  the  question  regarding  the  rising  or  falling 
of  the  dew — a  question  long  agitated,  and  finally  set  at 
rest  by  the  beautiful  researches  of  Wells  and  Melloni. 
I  do  not  think  that  any  boy  of  average  intelligence  will 
be  satisfied  with  the  simple  answer  that  the  dew  falls. 
He  will  wish  to  learn  how  you  know  that  it  falls,  and, 
if  acquainted  with  the  notions  of  the  middle  ages,  may 
refer  to  the  opinion  of  Father  Laurus,  that,  if  you  fill  a 
goose  egg  with  the  morning  dew  and  expose  it  to  the 
sun,  it  will  rise  like  a  balloon — a  swan's  egg  being  better 
for  the  experiment  than  a  goose  egg.  It  is  imf>ossible 
to  give  the  boy  a  clear  notion  of  the  beautiful  pheno- 
menon to  which  his  question  refers,  without  first  making 
him  acquainted  with  the  radiation  and  conduction  of 
heat.  Take,  for  example,  a  blade  of  grass,  from  which 
one  of  these  orient  pearls  is  depending.  During  the  day 
the  grass,  and  the  earth  beneath  it,  possess  a  certain 
amount  of  warmth  imparted  by  the  sun  ;  during  a  serene 
night,  heat  is  radiated  from  the  surface  of  the  grass  into 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSICS.  7I 

Space,  and  to  supply  the  loss,  there  is  a  flow  of  heat 
from  the  interior  portions  of  the  blade  towards  its  sur- 
face. Thus  the  surface  loses  heat  by  radiation,  and 
gains  heat  by  conduction.  Now,  in  the  case  before  us, 
the  power  of  radiation  is  great,  whereas  the  power  of 
conduction  is  small ;  the  consequence  is  that  the  blade 
loses  more  than  it  gains,  and  hence  becomes  more  and 
more  refrigerated.  The  light  vapour  floating  around  the 
surface  so  cooled  is  precipitated  upon  it,  and  there  ac- 
cumulates to  form  the  little  pearly  globe  which  we  call 
a  dew-drop. 

Thus  the  boy  finds  the  simple  and  homely  fact  which 
addressed  his  senses  to  be  the  outcome  and  flower  of  the 
deepest  laws.  The  fact  becomes,  in  a  measure,  sanctified 
as  an  object  of  thought,  and  invested  for  him  with  a 
beauty  for  evermore.  He  thus  learns  that  things  which, 
at  first  sight,  seem  to  stand  isolated  and  without  appa- 
rent brotherhood  in  Nature  are  united  by  their  causes, 
and  finds  the  detection  of  these  analogies  a  source  of 
perpetual  delight. 

To  enlist  pleasure  on  the  side  of  intellectual  perform- 
ance is  a  point  of  the  utmost  importance ;  for  the 
exercise  of  the  mind,  like  that  of  the  body,  depends  for 
its  value  upon  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  accomplished. 
Every  physician  knows  that  something  more  than  mere 
mechanical  motion  is  comprehended  under  the  idea  of 
healthful  exercise — that,  indeed,  being  most  healthful 
which  makes  us  forget  all  ulterior  ends  in  the  mere 
enjoyment  of  it.  What,  for  example,  could  be  substi- 
tuted for  the  jubilant  shout  of  the  playground,  where  the 
boy  plays  for  the  mere  love  of  playing,  and  without 
reference  to  physiological  laws;  while  kindly  Nature 
accomplishes  her  ends  unconsciously,  and  makes  his  very 
6 


72  PROFESSOR  TYNDALL 

indifference  beneficial  to  him  ?  You  may  have  more 
systematic  motions,  you  may  devise  means  for  the  more 
perfect  traction  of  each  particular  muscle,  but  you  can- 
not create  the  joy  and  gladness  of  the  game,  and  where 
these  are  absent,  the  charm  and  the  health  of  the 
exercise  are  gone.  The  case  is  similar  with  mental 
education.  Why  then  should  the  mind  of  youth  be  so 
completely  warped  from  its  healthful  and  happy  action, 
so  utterly  withdrawn  from  those  studies  to  which  its 
earliest  tendencies  point,  and  in  the  cultivation  of  which 
the  concurrence  of  its  ardour  would  powerfully  tend  to 
the  augmentation  of  its  strength,  as  to  leave  the  man  in 
after-life,  unless  enlightened  by  his  visits  to  an  Institution 
such  as  that  in  which  we  are  now  assembled,  in  absolute 
ignorance  as  to  whether  the  material  world  is  governed 
by  law  or  chance,  or  indeed  whether  those  phenomena 
which  excited  his  youthful  questionings  be  not  really  tlie 
jugglery  of  Jotuns,  or  of  some  other  power  similar  in 
kind .' 

The  study  of  Physics,  as  already  intimated,  consists 
of  two  processes,  which  are  complementary  to  each 
other — the  tracing  of  facts  to  their  causes,  and  the 
logical  advance  from  the  cause  to  the  fact.  In  the 
former  process,  called  induction^  certain  moral  qualities 
come  into  play.  It  requires  patient  industry,  and  an 
humble  and  conscientious  acceptance  of  what  Nature 
reveals.  The  first  condition  of  success  is  an  honest  re- 
ceptivity and  a  willingness  to  abandon  all  preconceived 
notions,  however  cherished,  if  they  be  found  to  con- 
tradict the  truth.  And  if  a  man  be  not  capable  of 
this  self-renunciation — this  loyal  surrender  of  himself  to 
Nature,  he  lacks,  in  my  opinion,  the  first  mark  of  a  true 
philosopher.     Thus  the  earnest  prosecutor  cf  science, 


ON    THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSICS. 


7Z 


who  does  not  work  with  the  idea  of  producing  a  sensa- 
tion in  the  world,  who  loves  the  truth  better  than  the 
transitory  blaze  of  to-day's  fame,  who  comes  to  his  task 
with  a  single  eye,  finds  in  that  task  an  indirect  means  of 
!he  highest  moral  culture.  And  although  the  virtue  of 
the  act  depends  upon  its  privacy,  this  sacrifice  of  self, 
this  upright  determination  to  accept  the  truth,  no  matter 
how  it  may  present  itself — even  at  the  hands  of  a 
scientific  foe,  if  necessary — carries  with  it  its  own  re- 
ward. When  prejudice  is  put  under  foot,  and  the  stains 
of  personal  bias  have  been  washed  away — when  a  man 
consents  to  lay  aside  his  vanity  and  to  become  Nature's 
organ — his  elevation  is  the  instant  consequence  of  his 
humility.  You  may,  it  is  true,  point  to  the  quarrels  of 
scientific  men,  to  their  struggles  for  priority,  to  that 
unpleasant  egotism  which  screams  around  its  little  pro- 
perty of  discovery  like  a  scared  plover  about  its  young 
I  will  not  deny  all  this ;  but  let  it  be  set  down  to  its 
proper  account,  to  the  weakness — or,  if  you  will — to  the 
wickedness  of  Man,  but  not  to  the  charge  of  Physical 
Science. 

The  second  process  in  physical  investigation  is  deduc- 
tion, or  the  advance  of  the  mind  from  fixed  principles 
to  the  conclusions  which  flow  from  them.  The  rules  of 
logic  are  the  formal  statement  of  this  process,  which, 
however,  was  practised  by  every  healthy  mind  before 
ever  such  rules  were  written.  In  the  study  of  Physics, 
induction  and  deduction  are  perpetually  married  to 
each  other.  The  man  observes, — he  strips  facts  of  their 
peculiarities  of  form,  and  tries  to  unite  them  by  their 
essences;  having  efiected  this,  he  at  once  deduces,  and 
thus  checks  his  induction.  Here  the  grand  difference 
between  the  methods  at  present  followed,  and  those  of 


74  PROFESSOR   TYNDALL 

the  ancients,  becomes  manifest.  They  were  one-sided 
in  these  matters:  they  omitted  the  process  of  induction, 
and  substituted  conjecture  for  observation.  They  do 
not  seem  to  have  possessed  sufficient  patience  to  watch 
the  slow  processes  of  Nature,  and  to  make  themselves 
acquainted  with  the  conditions  under  which  she  operates. 
Ignorant  of  these  conditions,  they  could  never  penetrate 
her  secrets  nor  master  her  laws.  This  mastery  not  only 
enables  us  to  turn  her  forces  against  each  other,  so  as  to 
protect  ourselves  from  their  hostile  action,  but  makes 
them  our  slaves.  By  the  study  of  Physics  we  have 
opened  to  us  treasuries  of  power  of  which  antiquity 
never  dreamed :  we  lord  it  over  Matter,  but  in  so  doing 
we  have  become  better  acquainted  with  the  laws  of 
Mind  ;  for  to  the  mental  philosopher  material  Nature 
furnishes  a  screen  against  which  the  human  spirit  pro- 
jects its  own  image,  and  thus  becomes  capable  of  self- 
inspection. 

Thus,  then,  as  a  means  of  intellectual  culture,  the 
study  of  Physics  exercises  and  sharpens  observation :  it 
brings  the  most  exhaustive  logic  into  play :  it  compares, 
abstracts,  and  generalizes,  and  provides  a  mental  imagery 
admirably  suited  to  these  processes.  The  strictest  pre- 
cision of  thought  is  everywhere  enforced,  and  prudence, 
foresight,  and  sagacity  are  demanded.  By  its  appeals  to 
experiment,  it  continually  checks  itself,  and  builds  upon 
a  sure  foundation. 

Thus  far  we  have  regarded  the  study  of  Physics  as  an 
agent  of  intellectual  culture;  but  like  other  things  in 
Nature,  it  subserves  more  than  a  single  end.  The  colours 
of  the  clouds  delight  the  eye,  and,  no  doubt,  accomplish 
moral  purposes  also ;  but  the  self-same  clouds  hold 
urithin  their  fleeces  the  moisture  by  which  our  fields  are 


ON   THE  STUDY  OF  PHYSICS.  75 

rendered  fruitful.  The  sunbeams  excite  our  interest  and 
invite  our  investigation ;  but  they  also  extend  their 
beneficent  influences  to  our  fruits  and  corn,  and  thus 
accomplish,  not  only  intellectual  ends,  but  minister,  at 
the  same  time,  to  our  material  necessities.  And  so  it  is 
with  scientific  research.  While  the  love  of  science  is  a 
sufficient  incentive  to  the  pursuit  of  science,  and  the 
investigator,  in  the  prosecution  of  his  inquiries,  is  raised 
above  all  material  considerations,  the  results  of  his 
labours  may  exercise  a  potent  influence  upon  the  phy- 
sical condition  of  Man.  This  is  more  often  the  arrange- 
ment of  Nature,  than  of  the  scientific  investigator  him- 
self; for  he  usually  pursues  his  object  without  regard  to 
its  practical  applications.  And  let  him  who  is  dazzled 
by  such  applications — who  sees  in  the  steam-engine  and 
the  electric  telegraph  the  highest  embodiment  of  human 
genius  and  the  only  legitimate  object  of  scientific  re- 
search, beware  of  prescribing  conditions  to  the  investi- 
gator. Let  him  beware  of  attempting  to  substitute  for 
that  simple  love  with  which  the  votary  of  science  pur- 
sues his  task,  the  calculations  of  what  he  is  pleased  to 
call  utility.  The  scientific  man  must  approach  Nature 
in  his  own  way ;  for  if  you  invade  his  freedom  by  your 
so-called  practical  considerations,  it  may  be  at  the 
expense  of  those  qualities  on  which  his  success  as  a 
discoverer  depends.  Let  the  self-styled  practical  man 
look  to  those  from  the  fecundity  of  whose  thought  he, 
and  thousands  like  him,  have  sprung  into  existence. 
Were  they  inspired  in  their  first  inquiries  by  the  calcu- 
lations of  utility  }  Not  one  of  them.  They  were  often 
forced  to  live  low  and  lie  hard,  and  to  seek  a  compensa- 
tion for  their  penury  in  the  delight  which  their  favourite 
pursuits  afforded  them.     In  the  words  of  one  well  quali- 


;0  PROFESSOR  TYNDALL 

Bed  to  speak  upon  this  subject,  "  I  say  not  merely  look 
at  the  pittance  of  men  like  John  Dalton,  or  the  voluntary 
starvation  of  the  late  Graff;  but  compare  what  is  con- 
sidered as  competency  or  affluence  by  your  Faradays, 
Liebigs,  and  Herschels,  with  the  expected  results  of  a 
life  of  successful  commercial  enterprise:  then  compare 
the  amount  of  mind  put  forth,  the  work  done  for  society 
in  either  case,  and  you  will  be  constrained  to  allow  that 
the  former  belong  to  a  class  of  workers  who,  properly 
speaking,  are  not  paid,  and  cannot  be  paid  for  their 
work,  as  indeed  it  is  of  a  sort  to  which  no  payment 
could  stimulate." 

But  while  the  scientific  investigator,  who,  standing 
upon  the  frontiers  of  human  knowledge,  and  aiming  at 
the  conquest  of  fresh  soil  from  the  surrounding  region  of 
the  unknown,  makes  the  discovery  of  truth  his  exclusive 
object  for  the  time,  he  cannot  but  feel  the  deepest 
interest  in  the  practical  application  of  the  truth  dis- 
covered. There  is  something  ennobling  in  the  triumph 
of  Mind  over  Matter :  apart  even  from  its  uses  to  society, 
there  is  something  sublime  in  the  idea  of  Man  having 
tamed  that  wild  force  which  rushes  through  the  tele- 
graphic wire,  and  made  it  the  minister  of  his  will.  Our 
attainments  in  these  directions  appear  to  be  commen- 
surate with  our  needs.  We  had  already  subdued  horse 
and  mule,  and  obtained  from  them  all  the  service  which 
it  was  in  their  power  to  render:  we  must  either  stand 
still,  or  find  more  potent  agents  to  execute  our  purposes. 
To  .ftand  still,  however,  was  not  in  the  plan  of  Him  who 
made  motion  a  condition  of  life,  and,  as  if  by  His  high 
arrangement,  the  steam-engine  appeared.  Remember 
that  these  are  but  new  things ;  that  it  is  not  long  since 
ire  struck  into  the  scientific  methods  which  produced 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSICS.  7? 

these  extraordinary  results.  We  cannnot  for  an  instant 
regard  them  as  the  final  achievements  of  science,  but 
rather  as  an  earnest  of  what  she  is  yet  to  do.  They 
mark  our  first  great  advances  upon  the  dominion  ol 
Nature.  Animal  strength  fails,  but  here  are  the  forces 
which  hold  the  world  together,  and  the  instincts  and 
successes  of  Man  assure  him  that  these  forces  are  his 
when  he  is  wise  enough  to  command  them. 

In  the  title  of  this  Lecture,  the  study  of  Physics  as  a 
branch  of  education  "  for  all  classes  "  is  spoken  of  I  am 
not  quite  sure  that  I  understand  the  meaning  intended 
to  be  conveyed  by  the  words  "  all  classes  ; "  and  I  have 
regarded  the  question  with  reference  to  those  mental 
qualities  which  have  been  distributed  without  reference 
to  class.  As  an  instrument  of  intellectual  culture,  the 
study  of  Physics  is  profitable  to  all :  as  bearing  upon 
special  functions,  its  value,  though  not  so  great,  is  still 
more  tangible.  Why,  for  example,  should  Members  of 
Parliament  be  ignorant  of  the  subjects  concerning  which 
they  are  called  upon  to  legislate  ?  In  this  land  of  prac- 
tical physics,  why  should  they  be  unable  to  form  an 
independent  opinion  upon  a  physical  question .''  Why 
should  the  senator  be  left  at  the  mercy  of  interested 
disputants  when  a  scientific  question  is  discussed,  until 
he  deems  the  nap  a  blessing  which  rescues  him  from  the 
bewilderments  of  the  committee-room  }  The  education 
which  does  not  supply  the  want  here  referred  to,  fails  in 
its  duty  to  England.  With  regard  to  our  working  people, 
in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  term  working,  the  study  of 
Physics  would,  I  imagine,  be  profitable,  not  only  as  a 
means  of  mental  culture,  but  also  as  a  moral  influence 
to  woo  these  people  from  pursuits  which  now  degrade 
them,    A  man's  reformation  oftener  depends  upon  the 


78  PROFESSOR  TYNDALL 

indirect  than  upon  the  direct  action  of  the  will  The 
will  must  be  exerted  in  the  choice  of  employment  which 
shall  break  the  force  of  temptation  by  erecting  a  barrier 
against  it  The  drunkard,  for  example,  is  in  a  perilous 
condition  if  he  content  himself  merely  with  saying,  or 
swearing,  that  he  will  avoid  strong  drink.  His  thoughts, 
if  not  attracted  by  another  force,  will  revert  to  the  public- 
house,  and  to  rescue  him  permanently  from  this  you 
must  give  him  an  equivalent  By  investing  the  objects 
of  hourly  intercourse  with  an  interest  which  prompts 
reflection,  new  enjoyments  would  be  opened  to  the 
working  man,  and  every  one  of  these  would  be  a  point 
of  force  to  protect  him  against  temptation.  Besides  this, 
our  factories  and  our  foundries  present  an  extensive  field 
of  observation,  and  were  those  who  work  in  them  ren- 
dered capable,  by  previous  culture,  of  appreciating  what 
they  see,  the  results  to  science  would  be  incalculable. 
Who  can  say  what  intellectual  Samsons  are  at  the 
present  moment  toiling  with  closed  eyes  in  the  mills  and 
forges  of  Manchester  and  Birmingham  }  Grant  these 
Samsons  sight,  give  them  some  knowledge  of  Physics, 
and  you  multiply  the  chances  of  discovery,  and  with 
them  the  prospects  of  national  advancement.  In  our 
multitudinous  technical  operations,  we  are  constantly 
playing  with  forces  where  our  ignorance  is  often  the 
cause  of  our  destruction.  There  are  agencies  at  work  in 
a  locomotive  of  which  the  maker  of  it  probably  never 
dreamed,  but  which  nevertheless  may  be  sufficient  to 
convert  it  into  an  engine  of  death.  Again,  when  "ve 
"cflect  on  the  intellectual  condition  of  the  people  who 
work  in  our  coal  mines,  those  terrific  explosions  which 
occur  from  time  to  time  need  not  astonish  us.  If  these 
men  possessed   sufficient  physical   knowledge,  I  doubt 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSICS.  79 

not.  from  the  operatives  themselves  would  emanate  a 
system  by  which  these  shocking  accidents  might  be 
effectually  avoided.  If  they  possessed  the  knowledge, 
their  personal  interests  would  furnish  the  necessary  sti- 
mulus to  its  practical  application,  and  thus  two  ends 
would  be  served  at  the  same  time — the  elevation  of  the 
men  and  the  diminution  of  the  calamity. 

In  what  I  have  said  regarding  mental  processes,  I  have 
described  things  as  they  reveal  themselves  to  my  own 
eyes,  and  have  been  enacted  in  my  own  limited  practice. 
In  doing  this,  I  have  been  supported  by  the  belief  that 
there  is  one  mind  common  to  us  all ;  and  that  if  I  be 
true  to  the  expression  of  this  mind,  even  in  a  small  par- 
ticular, the  truth  will  attest  itself  by  a  response  in  the 
convictions  of  my  hearers.  There  may  be  the  same 
difference  between  the  utterance  of  two  individuals  of 
different  ranges  of  intellectual  power  and  experience  on 
a  subject  like  the  present,  as  between  "The  Descent 
from  the  Cross,"  by  Rubens,  and  the  portrait  of  a 
spaniel  dog.  Nevertheless,  if  the  portrait  of  the  spaniel 
be  true  to  nature,  it  recommends  itself  as  truth  to  the 
human  mind,  and  excites,  in  some  degree,  the  interest 
that  truth  ever  inspires.  Thus  far  I  have  endeavoured 
to  keep  all  tints  and  features  which  really  do  not  belong 
to  the  portrait  of  my  spaniel,  apart  from  it,  and  I  ask 
your  permission  to  proceed  a  little  further  in  the  sarrte 
manner,  and  to  refer  to  a  fact  or  two  in  addition  to  those 
already  cited,  which  presented  themselves  to  my  notice 
during  my  brief  career  as  a  teacher  in  the  establishment 
already  alluded  to.  The  facts,  though  extremely  humble, 
and  deviating  in  some  slight  degree  from  the  strict  sub- 
ject of  the  present  discourse,  may  yet  serve  to  illustrate 
an  educational  principle. 


80  PROFESSOR  TYNDALL 

One  of  the  duties  which  fell  to  my  share,  during  the 
period  to  which  I  have  referred,  was  the  instruction  of  a 
class  in  mathematics,  and  I  usually  found  that  Euclid 
and  the  ancient  geometry  generally,  when  addressed  to 
the  understanding,  formed  a  very  attractive  study  for 
youth.  But  it  was  my  habitual  practice  to  withdraw  the 
boys  from  the  routine  of  the  book,  and  to  appeal  to  their 
self-power  in  the  treatment  of  questions  not  compre- 
hended in  that  routine.  At  first,  the  change  from  the 
beaten  track  usually  excited  a  little  aversion  :  the  youth 
felt  like  a  child  amid  strangers  ;  but  in  no  single  instance 
have  I  found  this  aversion  to  continue.  When  utterly 
disheartened,  I  have  encouraged  the  boy  by  that  anecdote 
of  Newton,  where  he  attributes  the  difference  between 
him  and  other  men,  mainly  to  his  own  patience ;  or  of 
Mirabeau,  when  he  ordered  his  servant,  who  had  stated 
something  to  be  impossible,  never  to  use  that  stupid 
word  again.  Thus  cheered,  he  has  returned  to  his  task 
with  a  smile,  which  perhaps  had  something  of  doubt 
in  it,  but  which,  nevertheless,  evinced  a  resolution  to 
try  again.  I  have  seen  the  boy's  eye  brighten,  and,  at 
length,  with  a  pleasure  of  which  the  ecstacy  of  Archi- 
medes was  but  a  simple  expansion,  heard  him  exclaim, 
"  I  have  it,  sir."  The  consciousness  of  self-power,  thus 
awakened,  was  of  immense  value ;  and,  animated  by  it, 
the  progress  of  the  class  was  astonishing.  It  was  often 
my  custom  to  give  the  boys  their  choice  of  pursuing 
their  propositions  in  the  book,  or  of  trying  their  strength 
on  others  not  to  be  found  there.  Never  in  a  single  in- 
stance have  I  known  the  book  to  be  chosen.  I  was  ever 
ready  to  assist  when  I  deemed  help  needful,  but  my 
offers  of  assistance  were  habitually  declined.  The  boys 
bad  tasted   the  sweets   of  intellectual    conquest,   and 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  PHYSICS.  8 1 

demanded  victories  of  their  own.  I  have  seen  their  dia- 
grams scratched  on  the  walls,  cut  into  the  beams  upon 
the  playground,  and  numberless  other  illustrations  of  the 
living  interest  they  took  in  the  subject.  As  regards 
experience  in  teaching,  I  was  a  mere  fledgling  at  that 
time :  I  knew  nothing  of  the  rules  of  pedagogics,  as  the 
Germans  name  it ;  but  I  adhered  to  the  spirit  indicated  at 
the  commencement  of  this  discourse,  and  endeavoured  to 
make  geometry  a  means  and  not  a  branch  of  education. 
The  experiment  was  successful,  and  some  of  the  most 
delightful  hours  of  my  existence  have  been  spent  in 
marking  the  vigorous  and  cheerful  expansion  of  mental 
power,  when  appealed  to  in  the  manner  I  have  described. 
And  then  again,  the  pleasure  we  all  experienced  was 
enhanced  when  we  applied  our  mathematical  knowledge 
to  the  solution  of  physical  problems.  Many  objects  of 
hourly  contact  had  thus  a  new  interest  and  significance 
imparted  to  them.  The  swing,  the  see-saw,  the  tension 
of  the  giant-stride  ropes,  the  fall  and  rebound  of  the 
football,  the  advantage  of  a  small  boy  over  a  large  one 
when  turning  short,  particularly  in  slippery  weather ;  all 
became  subjects  of  investigation.  Supposing  a  lady  to 
stand  before  a  looking-glass,  of  the  same  height  as  her- 
self, it  was  required  to  know  how  much  of  the  glass  was 
really  useful  to  the  lady.^  and  we  learned,  with  great 
pleasure,  the  economic  fact  that  she  might  dispense  with 
the  lower  half  and  see  her  whole  figure  notwithstanding. 
We  also  felt  deep  interest  in  ascertaining  from  the  hum 
of  a  bee  the  number  of  times  the  little  insect  flaps  its 
wings  in  a  second.  Following  up  our  researches  upon 
the  pendulum,  we  were  interested  to  learn  how  Colonel 
Sabine  had  made  it  the  means  of  determining  the  figure 
of  the  earth  ;  and  we  were  also  startled  by  the  inference 


82  PROFESSOR   TYNDALL 

which  the  pendulum  enabled  us  to  draw,  that  if  the 
diurnal  velocity  of  the  earth  were  seventeen  times  its 
present  amount,  the  centrifugal  force  at  the  equator 
would  be  precisely  equal  to  the  force  of  gravitation,  and 
that  hence  an  inhabitant  of  those  regions  would  have 
the  same  tendency  to  fall  upwards  as  downwards.  All 
these  things  were  sources  of  wonder  and  delight  to  us : 
we  could  not  but  admire  the  perseverance  of  Man  which 
had  accomplished  so  much  ;  and  then  when  we  remem- 
bered that  we  were  gifted  with  the  same  powers,  and 
had  the  same  great  field  to  work  in,  our  hopes  arose 
that  at  some  future  day  we  might  possibly  push  the 
subject  a  little  further,  and  add  our  own  victories  to  the 
conquests  already  won. 

I  know  I  ought  to  apologize  to  you  for  dwelling  so 
long  upon  this  subject  But  the  days  I  spent  among 
these  youthful  philosophers  made  a  deep  impression  on 
me.  I  learned  among  them  something  of  myself  and 
of  human  nature,  and  obtained  some  notion  of  a  teacher's 
vocation.  If  there  be  one  profession  in  England  of  para- 
mount importance,  I  believe  it  to  be  that  of  the  school- 
master ;  and  if  there  be  a  position  where  selfishness  and 
incompetence  do  most  serious  mischief,  by  lowering  the 
moral  tone  and  exciting  contempt  and  cunning  where 
reverence  and  noble  truthfulness  ought  to  be  the  feelings 
evoked,  it  is  that  of  the  governor  of  a  school.  When  a 
man  of  enlarged  heart  and  mind  comes  among  boys, — 
when  he  allows  his  being  to  stream  through  them,  and 
observes  the  operation  of  his  own  character  evidenced 
in  the  elevation  of  theirs, — it  would  be  idle  to  talk  of 
the  position  of  such  a  man  being  honourable.  It  is  a 
blessed  position.  The  man  is  a  blessing  to  himself  and 
to  all  around  him.   Such  men,  I  believe,  are  to  be  found 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSICS.  83 

in  England,  and  it  behoves  those  who  busy  themselves 
with  the  mechanics  of  education  at  the  present  day,  to 
seek  them  out.  For  no  matter  what  means  of  culture 
may  be  chosen,  whether  physical  or  philological,  success 
must  ever  mainly  depend  upon  the  amount  of  life,  love, 
and  earnestness,  which  the  teacher  himself  brings  with 
him  to  his  vocation.* 

•  The  following  extract  from  a  journal  is,  I  think,  too  good  to  be  omitted 
here.  The  writer  of  it — a  pupil  of  Dirichlet  and  Steiner — would  doubtless 
have  felt  himself  more  at  home  in  dealing  with  elliptic  functions  than  with 
the  definitions  of  Euclid.  But  the  manner  in  which  he  contrived  to  render 
the  latter  mysteries  evident  to  a  light-headed  little  boy,  does  credit  to 
another  faculty  than  his  mere  mathematical  one,  and  will,  I  trust,  prove  as 

pleasant  to  the  reader  as  it  has  to  me.     "  K stammers  distressingly, 

and  this  has  impeded  his  progress  very  much.  I  have  often  passed  him  in 
the  class,  knowing  that  I  could  not  get  any  intelligible  answer  from  him, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  his  eloquent  eyes,  which  said,  '  I  know  it.  Sir,  if  I 
could  but  speak,'  I  might  have  mistaken  him  for  a  dunce,  and  thus  done 
him  great  injustice.  Through  his  love  of  mischief,  however,  and  his  in- 
ability to  cope  with  his  schoolfellows,  on  account  of  his  defective  utterance, 
it  was  evident  that  he  was  losing  interest  in  his  work,  or  rather  that  he  had 
never  felt  much  interest  in  it,  and  it  became  necessary  to  awaken  him. 
One  day,  after  he  had  been  more  noisy  and  mischievous  than  usual,  I  told 
him  rather  sternly  to  put  on  his  cap  and  follow  me.  He  did  so,  and  I 
walked  forward,  while  he,  in  a  state  of  anxious  suspense,  walked  behind 

me.     After  some  moments'  silence,  I  asked,   *  Do  you  know,  K ,  what 

I  am  going  to  do  with  you  ?  '  '  Ne — ne — ne — no.  Sir, '  he  replied.  '  Well,' 
I  said,  *  I  will  tell  you.  I  have  spoken  to  you  often  enough,  to  no  purpose, 
and  now  I  intend  to  make  you  do  better  for  the  future.'  We  walked  for- 
ward for  some  distance,  and  at  length,  putting  my  arm  quietly  around  his 
neck,  I  broke  silence  once  more,  '  Can  you  tell  me  what  an  angle  is,  my 
boy  ? '  '  Ye — ye — ye — yes.  Sir,  an  angle  is  a — a — a — a — , '  he  could  get  no 
farther,  and  turned  his  eyes  upon  me  beseechingly.  '  Well,'  I  replied  to 
this  silent  appeal,  *  go  and  pull  two  stalks  of  grass  and  show  me  what  an 
angle  is.'  This  he  did,  and  with  the  grass  stalks  continued  to  answer  my 
questions  on  the  geometrical  definitions.  We  turned  into  a  stubble  field — 
by  tliis  time  he  had  lost  all  fear,  and  could  speak  quite  distinctly — '  What 
is  a  right  angled  triangle  ? '  I  asked.  '  It  has  all  its  angles  right  angles, 
Sir.'  'Indeed,'  I  replied,  taking  my  arm  from  around  his  neck,  'it  has 
tliree  right  angles,  has  it  ?  will  you  just  kneel  down  ? '  He  saw  his  mistake, 
stammered  '  two,'  looked  at  me  piteously  and  hesitated.     '  On  your  knees, 


84  PROFESSOR  TYNDALL 

Such  are  some  of  the  thoughts  which  have  floated 
before  me,  in  a  more  or  less  distracted  manner,  in  refer- 
ence to  the  present  hour;  and  nobody  can  be  more 
conscious  of  their  manifold  imperfections  than  I  am 
myself.  I  have  throughout  been  less  anxious  to  make 
out  a  case  for  Physics  than  to  state  the  tmth ;  and  I 
confess  that  the  Lecture  of  this  day  week  causes  me  to 
doubt,  whether  you  are  not  entitled  to  expect  from  me 
a  more  emphatic  statement  of  the  claims  of  the  science 
which  I  now  represent,  than  that  which  I  have  laid 
before  you.  When  I  saw  your  Lecturer  reduced  to  the 
necessity  of  pleading  for  Science,  and  meekly  claiming 
for  it,  from  the  Institution  which  we  are  accustomed  to 
regard  as  the  highest  in  this  land,  a  recognition  equal 
to  that  accorded  to  Philology,  I  confess  that  the  effect 
was  to  excite  a  certain  revolutionary  tendency  in  a  mind 
which  is  usually  tranquil  almost  to  apathy  in  these 
matters.  As  the  pole  of  a  magnet  acting  upon  soft  iron 
induces  in  the  latter  a  condition  opposed  to  its  own, 
so  the  irrationality  of  those  who  cast  this  slight  upon 
Science  tends  to  excite  an  opposite  error  on  the  part 
of  their  antagonists,  and  to  cause  them,  in  retaliation, 
to  underrate  the  real  merits  of  Philology.  But  is  there 
no  mind  in  England  large  enough  to  see  the  value  of 
both,  and  to  secure  for  each  of  them  fair  play }     Let  us 

Sir,  I  cried,  and  he  knelt  down,  while  I,  falling  on  my  knees  beside  hinj, 
nid,  '  Now  pull  up  some  stubble,  and  make  mc  a  triangle  having  either  two 
or  three  right  angles.'  At  once  ho  saw  his  error,  and  the  absurdity  of  ouj 
petition,  as  we  knelt  together,  making  geometrical  diagrams  with  stubble 
Springing  to  his  feet,  he  shook  with  laughter — '  It  has  only  one  rij^ht  angle, 
S*r~only  one,  of  course  !'  I  responded,  'Of  course.'  With  my  arm  round 
Ut  neck,  we  turned  homewards,  and  continued  our  lesson  successfully. 
'  This  is  tlie  punishment  I  brid  in  store  for  you,'  I  said,  when  we  rcachetl 
home.  'Now  go,  and  tran^grees  no  more,'  to  which  his  eyes  responded, 
» I  will,  Sir.'- 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSICS.  85 

not  make  this  a  fight  of  partisans — let  the  gleaned 
wealth  of  antiquity  be  showered  into  the  open  breast ; 
but  while  we  "  unsphere  the  spirit  of  Plato"  and  listen 
with  delight  to  the  lordly  music  of  the  past,  let  us  honour 
by  adequate  recognition  the  genius  of  our  own  time. 
Let  me  again  remind  you  that  the  claims  of  that  science 
which  finds  in  me  to-day  its  unripened  advocate,  are 
based  upon  the  natural  relations  subsisting  between 
Man  and  the  world  in  which  he  dwells.  Here,  on  the 
one  side,  we  have  the  apparently  lawless  shifting  of 
phenomena  ;  on  the  other  side,  mind,  which  requires 
law  for  its  equilibrium,  and  in  obedience  to  its  own  in- 
destructible instincts,  believes  that  these  phenomena  are 
reducible  to  law.  To  chasten  this  apparent  chaos  is  a 
problem  which  man's  Creator  has  set  before  him.  The 
world  was  built  in  order:  it  is  the  visual  record  of  its 
Maker's  logic,  and  to  us  have  been  trusted  the  will  and 
power  to  grapple  with  the  mighty  argument.  Descend- 
ng  for  a  moment  from  this  high  ground  to  considerations 
which  lie  closer  to  us  as  a  nation — as  a  land  of  gas  and 
furnaces,  of  steam  and  electricity :  as  a  land  which 
science,  practically  applied,  has  made  great  in  peace 
and  mighty  in  war : — I  ask  you  whether  this  "  land  of 
old  and  just  renown,"  has  not  a  right  to  expect  from 
her  institutions  a  culture  which  shall  embrace  something 
more  than  declension  and  conjugation  ?  They  can  place 
physical  science  upon  its  proper  basis ;  they  can  check 
the  habit,  now  too  common,  of  regarding  science  solely 
as  an  instrument  of  material  prosperity ;  they  can  dwell 
with  effect  upon  its  nobler  use,  and  raise  the  national 
mind  to  the  contemplation  of  it  as  the  last  development 
of  that  "  increasing  purpose "  which  runs  through  the 
ages  and  widens  the  thoughts  of  men. 


I 


\      ON  THE  EDUCATIONAL  CLAIMS  OF 
BOTANICAL  SCIENCE. 

A  LECTURE  DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE  LONDON 
SOCIETY  OF  ARTS. 


ARTHUR  HENFREY,  ESQ.,  F.R.S.,  F.L.S. 


¥ 


I 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  BOTANY. 


The  classification  of  the  sciences,  and  the  investiga- 
tion of  their  relations  one  to  another,  must  necessarily 
be  a  subject  of  great  interest  to  those  who  pursue  the 
special  branches  of  knowledge  in  a  philosophical  spirit, 
not  as  the  means  of  acquiring  a  body  of  abstruse  ideas, 
but  for  the  purpose  of  contributing  to  the  common 
stock  of  classified  facts  and  natural  laws  upon  which 
the  education,  and  consequently  the  civilization,  of  the 
human  race  depends. 

A  votary  of  the  Natural  History  sciences  is  especially 
led  to  the  examination  of  the  general  relations  of  his 
pursuits,  from  the  great  degree  in  which  they  seem  to 
the  common  observer  to  be  removed  from  the  practical 
business  of  life.  It  is  a  question  to  which  his  social  and 
sympathetic  feelings  especially  attract  him  ;  and,  there- 
fore, it  is  with  great  gratification  that  I  avail  myself  of 
this  opportunity  of  insisting  publicly  upon  the  claims 
of  Botany  to  the  attention  of  all  engaged  in  education. 

The  most  remarkable  of  the  classifications  of  the 
sciences  which  have  been  given  to  the  world,  may  be 
briefly  characterized  by  arrangement  under  three  heads, 
indicating  the  totally  distinct  points  of  view  from  which 
they  set  out,  viz. : — 

I.  Those  based  upon  the  sources  of  knowledge. 


90  PROFESSOR  HENFREY 

2.  Those  based  upon  the  purpose  for  which  the  know- 
ledge is  sought ;  and 

3.  Those  based  upon  the  nature  of  the  objects  studied. 
I.  The  classifications  of  the  first  kind, — those  which 

arrange  the  various  branches  of  knowledge  according 
to  the  character  of  the  intellectual  methods  and  processes 
by  means  of  which  they  are  cultivated,  are  termed  sub- 
jective, as  regarding  alone  the  nature  of  the  recipient 
mind,  or  subject. 

If  we  disregard  the  technicalities  of  metaphysics,  cr 
rather  psychology,  we  may  conveniently  restrict  our 
analysis  of  this,  to  the  distinction  of  two  qualities,  those 
of  perception  and  reflection. 

By  perception,  by  the  aid  of  the  senses,  we  observe 
facts:  these  facts  may  be  either  independent  of  our  in- 
fluence, when  we  call  the  observation  proper  ;  or  they 
may  be  the  result  of  special  contrivance  on  our  parts, 
when  the  mode  of  observation  is  called  experimcntatiGn; 
and,  again,  we  may  receive  information  of  observed  facts 
by  testimony  of  others.  All  these  processes  involve  the 
acquisition  of  experience,  direct  or  indirect,  of  phenomena; 
the  sciences  pursued  especially  by  their  means  are  called 
experimental,  and  the  truths  of  experience  a.xQ  facts. 

Reflection  is  the  action  of  the  reasoning  faculty,  ac- 
cording to  its  own  laws,  upon  the  simple  ideas  furnished 
by  perception,  dealing  with  certain  properties  of  these, 
which  it  abstracts  from  the  facts  of  perception,  and,  by 
the  comparison  and  classification  of  them,  arriving  at 
generalizations,  principles,  laws,  and  the  like,  known  by 
the  collective  name  of  theory.  Those  sciences  which 
depend  almost  entirely  (for  none  do  solely)  upon  the 
reason,  are  called  rational,  abstract,  or  tfucretical 
sciences 


ON   THE   STUDY  OF   BOTANY.  Ql 

Now,  when  we  consider  that  there  exists  no  science 
purely  abstract  from  its  origin,  and  that  the  measure  of 
advancement  of  every  science  is  the  degree  to  which  it 
has  co-ordinated  the  ideas  with  which  it  deals  under 
general  propositions  and  laws,  it  becomes  obvious  that 
the  division  into  experimental  and  abstract  is  totally  in- 
applicable to  the  existing  state  of  science, 

2.  The  classifications  according  to  purpose,  the  division 
into  speculative  and  applied  or  practical  sciences,  fail 
almost  in  the  same  way,  since  the  progression  of  everj' 
science  is  marked,  step  by  step,  by  the  removal  of  certain 
truths  from  the  position  of  abstract  theories,  interesting 
only  to  the  learned,  into  the  rank  of  axioms  from  which 
practical  results  of  the  greatest  value  to  mankind  are 
derived. 

3.  The  third  point  of  view  is  that  from  which  we  re- 
gard only  the  objects  of  our  study,  without  considering 
either  the  faculties  or  processes  by  which  we  obtain  our 
knowledge,  or  the  advantages  we  may  derive  from  its 
acquisition. 

When  we  reflect  upon  the  ordinary  operations  of  our 
reasoning  faculties,  upon  the  common  rules  of  logic,  it 
becomes  evident  that  this  last  mode  of  classification  is 
the  only  one  that  can  be  called  rational,  since  it  is  the 
only  one  which  proceeds,  according  to  the  indispensable 
rule,  of  advancing  from  the  most  simple  to  the  more 
complex  of  the  ideas,  which  we  wish  to  co-ordinate  in 
our  minds.  The  other  two  modes,  the  division  into  ex- 
perimental and  rational,  abstract  and  applied  sciences, 
must  not  only,  from  their  nature,  continually  shift  their 
ground  as  knowledge  progresses,  but  they  both  set  out 
from  considerations  of  a  highly  complex  character,  which 
it  would  be  vain  to  attempt  to  analyze,  until  a  very  large 


92  PROFESSOR   HENFREY 

portion  of  the  whole  field  of  human  inquiry  has  been 
cleared. 

The  objective  mode  of  classification,  which  seems  to 
have  been  first  promulgated  in  a  full  and  adequate 
manner  by  Descartes,  has  been  revived  of  late  years 
from  a  long  oblivion,  and  it  asserts  its  claim  so  clearly 
and  evidently,  and  proves  to  harmonize  so  completely 
with  the  general  direction  which  scientific  inquiry  has 
taken  in  modern  times,  that  those  who  have  once  become 
acquainted  with  its  characters  can  scarcely  hesitate  to 
adopt  it. 

The  principle  is  laid  down  by  Descartes  in  his 
*'  Method,"  in  the  following  terms  : — "  To  conduct  my 
thoughts  in  order,  commencing  with  the  objects  which 
are  simplest  and  easiest  to  know,  so  as  to  rise  gradually 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  more  compound;"  and  in  a 
subsequent  chapter  he  traces  the  course  of  his  inquiries 
through  mathematics,  general  physics,  botany,  zoology, 
and  the  sciences  relative  to  man,  according  to  the  pro- 
gressive complexity  of  the  objects  of  his  study. 

In  the  chain  or  series  thus  formed,  there  not  only 
exists  a  logical  sequence,  a  relation  of  progression  of  the 
number  of  kinds  of  ideas  with  which  we  have  to  deal, 
but  there  is  a  relation  of  dependence,  insomuch  that 
each  science  rests  upon  that  preceding  it  for  a  certain 
proportion  of  its  data,  and  in  turn  constitutes  the 
necessary  basis  for  that  which  follows, — added  to  which 
we  find  the  history  of  the  development  of  the  individual 
sciences  bringing  a  striking  confirmation  of  the  validity 
of  the  principle,  by  showing  that,  although  the  first 
^eps  were  made  almost  simultaneously  in  all  the  great 
divisions  of  science  here  laid  down,  the  most  simple 
have,  from  their  nature,  outstripped,  in  exact  proportion 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF   BOTANY.  93 

to  their  relative  simplicity,  those  which  involve  more 
complicated  classes  of  generalities  ;  so  that,  as  it  has 
been  well  expressed,  the  logical  antecedents  have  always 
been  the  historical  antecedents* 

The  objective  classification  of  the  sciences  may  be 
briefly  explained  here. 

The  primary  divisions  depend  upon  the  groups  or 
classes  of  truths,  which  must  be  arranged  according  to 
their  simplicity,  or,  what  amounts  to  the  same,  their 
generality :  in  other  words,  the  small  number  of  quali- 
ties attached  to  the  notions  with  which  they  deal. 

The  mathematical  sciences  deal  with  ideas  which 
may  be  abstracted  entirely  from  all  material  existence, 
retaining  only  the  conceptions  of  space  and  number. 

The  physical  sciences  require,  in  addition,  the  actual 
recognition  of  matter,  or  force,  or  both,  in  addition  to 
relations  in  space  and  time,  but  they  are  still  confined 
to  universal  properties  of  matter. 

The  biological  sciences  are  distinguished,  in  a  most 
marked  manner,  by  their  dependence ;  the  laws  of  life 
relate  to  objects  having  relations  in  space  and  time,  and 
having  material  existence ;  they  display,  moreover,  in 
their  existence,  a  dependence  upon  physical  laws,  which 
form  their  medium  ;  but  they  are  distinguished  by  the 
presence  of  organization  and  life,  characterized  by  a 
peculiar  mobility  and  power  of  resistance  to  the  physical 
forces,  and  an  individuality  of  a  different  kind  from  that 
found  in  inorganic  matter. 

*  This  is  the  view  of  Comte,  but  there  are  other  conditions  which  have 
determined  the  order  in  which  the  various  relations  among  phenomena 
were  discovered.  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  has  stated  these  further  con- 
ditions, and  the  point  is  so  important,  that  I  have  placed  au  extract  from 
his  statement  in  the  Appendix. — fED.l 


94  PROFESSOR    HENFREY 

The  sciences  relating  to  man,  to  human  society,  are 
removed  another  step,  by  the  interference,  among  all  the 
preceding  laws,  of  those  relating  to  the  human  mind  in 
its  fullest  sense. 

We  thus  obtain  four  groups.  The  following  table 
illustrates  these  remarks  : — 

(  Abstract  or  absolute Mathematical  Scicnceii 

»P    .,         )  I    to  Mutter.     .  Physical  Sciences. 

irutns    .  <  Relative     .     .     .  j   to  Life     .     .  Biological  Sciences. 

(  (to  Man    .     .  Social  Sciences. 

These  four  groups  include  respectively  a  number  of 
secondary  sciences  derived  from,  dependent  on,  or  form- 
ing essential  constituents  of  the  groups.  With  these  we 
shall  only  so  far  engage  ourselves  here  as  relates  to 
the  subdivisions  of  biological  science.  Certain  common 
characters  run  through  these,  life  and  organization  being 
attributes  of  all  the  objects  with  which  they  are  con- 
versant. Physiology  and  morphology  traverse  the  whole 
field  of  organic  nature,  animal  as  well  as  vegetable. 
But  as  animals  and  vegetables  exhibit,  in  mass,  a  mani- 
fest difference  in  the  degree  of  complexity  of  the  vital 
powers  and  the  organization, — since  the  animal  king- 
dom exhibits  qualities  which  are  superadded  to,  and 
conjoined  with  those  which  it  shares  with  the  vegetable 
kingdom, — it  becomes  necessary  to  distinguish  the 
branches  of  biology  relating  to  these,  and  to  divide 
these  sciences  under  two  heads.  Botany  and  Zoology. 

The  greater  simplicity  of  the  physiological  processej 
of  vegetables,  is  alone  sufficient  to  indicate  their  in- 
feriority, or  antecedent  position  in  the  scale  of  natural 
objects ;  and  this  is  further  confirmed,  in  accordance 
with  the  principle  of  objective  classification,  by  their 
greater  ^jcncrality,  since  they  extend  through  the  sue* 


ON  THE   STUDY  OF   BOTANY. 


95 


ceeding  group,  in  the  vegetative  or  organic  life  of 
animals,  while  the  animal  life  proper  is  restricted  to  the 
latter.  And  this  physiological  distinction  is  in  agree- 
ment with  a  morphological  or  anatomical  difference  ;  for 
not  only  is  the  apparatus  of  organic  life  more  compli- 
cated in  animals,  but  these  possess  a  system  of  organs, 
the  nervous  system,  which  is  not  represented  in  any  way 
in  vegetables,  and  constitutes  the  especial  instrument  or 
seat  of  that  kind  of  spontaneity  which  is  the  most  striking 
characteristic  of  animal  life. 

These  observations  will  suffice  to  "give  an  indication 
of  the  place  which  Botany  holds  in  the  natural  classifi- 
cation of  the  sciences  generally,  according  to  the  objects 
of  their  investigation. 

Let  us  turn  now  to  the  methods  employed  in  the 
various  sciences,  in  order  to  ascertain  the  relative  posi- 
tion of  that  with  which  we  are  engaged,  in  this  respect 
also.  Those  sciences  devoted  to  the  investigation  of 
purely  abstract  truths,  the  mathematical  sciences,  are 
free  from  the  necessity  of  applying  the  perceptive  facul- 
ties, or  senses,  since  the  objects  of  their  pursuit  are  ideas 
from  which  have  been  abstracted  all  qualities  having  ma- 
terial existence.  Those  sciences,  geometry  and  algebra, 
proceed  by  reasoning,  and  calculation,  which  has  been 
well  designated  an  abridged  mode  of  reasoning.  When 
we  advance  to  the  examination  of  material  phenomena, 
the  faculties  of  observation  come  into  play,  and,  in  the 
first  place,  in  application  t;o  facts  over  which  we  ca.-i 
exercise  no  control ;  thus,  in  astronomy,  pure  obsei'va- 
tion  is  added  to  the  reasoning  and  calculation  used  in 
mathematics.  In  the  investigation  of  the  physical  phe- 
nomena of  our  own  globe,  however,  we  have  greater 
scope,  and  are  able  to  prepare  facts  for  observation — to 


96  PROFESSOR  HENFREY 

experimait,  as  it  is  termed.  In  the  biological  sciences, 
reasoning,  observation,  and  experiment,  all  have  place ; 
but  observation  of  unprepared  facts  is  far  more  em- 
ployed than  experiment.  Observation,  however,  as  used 
in  biology,  is  very  different  in  its  character  from  ob- 
servation in  physics.  Not  to  speak  of  the  greater  com- 
plexity of  phenomena,  increasing  in  great  proportion 
the  danger  of  errors  of  sense,  or  first  perceptions,  a  new 
difficulty  arises  from  the  character  of  the  objects  ob- 
served. In  physics,  observation  of  any  given  object — 
a  ray  of  light,  a  chemical  salt,  or  the  like — is  sufficient 
to  afford  us  conclusions  as  to  all  existing  objects  of  the 
same  kind  :  any  one  specimen  will  serve  as  a  type  of 
the  rest ;  and  a  renewal  of  the  observation,  under  pre- 
cisely the  same  condition,  will  only  repeat  and  verify  it 
But  in  the  case  of  animals  or  plants,  no  single  example 
will  serve  as  a  type  of  its  kind.  Thus,  in  astronomy,  a 
single  observed  fact  becomes  a  datum  ;  in  terrestrial 
physics,  any  given  example  of  an  object  may  be  experi- 
mented on,  and  all  the  characters  of  the  kind  of  object 
ascertained ;  while  in  biology,  the  individual  example, 
transitory  and  always  undergoing  change,  being  inca- 
pable of  affording,  at  any  given  time,  all  the  characters 
of  its  kind,  it  becomes  necessary  to  derive  the  specific 
type — ^z  permanent  unity ^  as  it  was  called  by  Buffon — 
from  comparison  of  a  more  or  less  considerable  number 
of  examples,  of  all  ages  and  placed  in  all  conditions. 
Here,  then,  wc  are  compelled  to  generalize,  from  the 
very  first  step  in  our  progress. 

The  words,  light,  heat,  iron,  gold,  oxygen,  or  the  like, 
do  not  necessarily  connote  any  attributes,  imply  no 
classification  or  grouping  of  separate  things;  so  that  we 
could  not  say,  "  a  light "  (except  colloquially  in  the  sense 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   BOTANY.  97 

of  a  source  of  light,  which  would  imply  a  generalization), 
"  a  gold,"  "  an  oxygen,"  &c.  But  when  we  speak  of  a 
horse,  an  oak,  or  any  animal  or  vegetable,  we  use  a 
general  name,  connoting  certain  characters  or  attributes, 
belonging  to  a  class  of  objects,  that  is,  an  indefinite 
number  of  objects,  separated  by  those  attributes  from 
all  other  objects. 

Now,  as  the  classes  or  kinds  of  objects  forming  the 
basis  of  all  reasoning  toward  laws  in  botany  and  zoology 
exist  in  enormous  numbers,  it  is  evident  that  comparative 
observation,  by  means  of  which  the  groups  are  established, 
must  occupy  a  most  prominent  place  in  their  processes, 
since  the  classification  of  things  is  one  of  the  necessary 
preliminaries  to  the  induction  which  seeks  the  ascertain- 
ment of  law. 

In  dwelling  upon  these  differences,  however,  it  is  im- 
portant to  point  out  that  the  methods  of  all  the  sciences 
are  fundamentally  one,  modified  only  in  secondary  par- 
ticulars ;  and  the  division  of  the  sciences  into  deductive 
and  inductive  indicates  merely  a  difference  in  the  de- 
gree of  advancement  of  the  respective  sciences  towards 
perfection.  Every  science  is  at  first  inductive ;  but  in 
proportion  to  the  small  number  of  qualities  possessed 
by  its  objects,  it  rises  more  quickly  to  certain  abstract 
generalizations,  which  suffice  to  represent  all  the  neces- 
sary characteristics  of  its  individual  objects  or  unities, 
and  then  deduction  enables  us  to  derive  all  the  possible 
conditions  of  their  relations  from  these.  Mathematics 
have  long  stood  in  this  position.  Physics  lagged  behind 
long,  from  the  overhaste  of  the  ancients  to  reach  their 
generalizations  without  passing  through  the  series  of 
inductions  from  facts  which  were  indispensably  requisite 
for  the  secure  foundation  of  deductive  physics.    In  these 


98  PROFESSOR  HENFREY 

days,  however,  induction  having  performed  a  vast  amount 
of  work  since  Bacon  gave  the  great  impulse  to  its  appli- 
cation, deduction  finds  a  large  and  increasing  domain  in 
physics,  where  observation  is  only  applied  for  the  pur- 
pose of  verification.  On  the  other  hand,  deduction  as 
yet  finds  little  scope  in  biology,  and  the  attempts  of  the 
German  "  philosophers  of  nature  "  are  not  of  a  character 
to  attract  us  to  the  pursuit  of  this  method  ;  nevertheless, 
it  is  evident  that  when  the  bases  have  been  securely  laid 
by  induction,  deduction  finds  as  great  a  scope  here  as 
elsewhere. 

A  few  words  must  still  be  added  respecting  the  in- 
ductive method  in  natural  history.  Bacon  defines  in- 
duction as  "  constructing  axioms  from  the  senses  and 
particulars,  by  ascending  continually  and  gradually  till 
it  finally  arrives  at  the  most  general  axioms,"  and  sub- 
sequently he  warns  us  against  what  he  calls  "  anticipa- 
tions," meaning  hypotheses.  But,  however  valuable  his 
cautions  were  in  the  state  of  science  in  those  days,  it  is 
evident  that  this  precept  of  avoiding  "anticipations"  is 
the  advice  to  abdicate  the  most  valuable  attributes  of 
the  human  mind.  Indeed,  he  remarks  in  a  later  passage, 
that  his  "  method  of  discovering  the  sciences  is  such  as 
to  leave  little  to  the  acuteness  and  strength  of  wit,  and 
indeed,  rather  to  level  wit  and  intellect."  And  those 
who  have  possessed  acuteness  and  strength  of  wit,  and 
who  have  most  advanced  the  natural  sciences  since  his 
day,  have,  in  return,  departed  from  the  rigorous  method 
of  induction,  and  by  this  alone  rendered  possible  the 
rapid  progress  of  their  sciences. 

For  in  natural  history — to  speak  of  this  alone — it  is 
rarely  in  our  power  to  ascertain  all  the  particulars 
requisite  for  any  given  induction — it  is  scarcely  ever 


ON   THE   STUDY  OF   BOTANY.  99 

possible  to  use  this  demonstrative  induction.  We  are 
constantly  obliged  to  derive  a  general  consequence  from 
a  portion  of  the  particular  cases  which  it  ought  to  rest 
upon,  and  in  such  cases  we  anticipate  the  agreement  of 
the  rest,  basing  the  hypothesis  upon  analogy — one  of  the 
most  important  instruments  in  biological  reasonings. 
In  this  way  we  arrive,  not  at  absolute  certainties,  but  at 
great  probabilities,  which  are  then  tested  by  the  various 
modes  of  verification,  before  they  are  admitted  into  the 
rank  of  truths.  Thus  this  reasoning  from  analogy 
or  tentative  induction,  comes  to  occupy  a  front  rank 
with  us,  and  is  in  reality  of  far  greater  utility  for  the 
advancement  of  science  than  the  pure  demonstrative 
induction ;  at  the  same  time,  it  is  a  process  which 
requires  to  be  employed  with  the  greatest  circumspec- 
tion, and  under  the  most  rigid  control  both  of  observa 
tion  and  reasoning.  And  this  gives  the  methods  of 
natural  history  a  high  value  as  intellectual  discipline  ; 
for  the  cases  in  which  inductions  have  to  be  made,  or 
judgments  to  be  formed  in  common  life,  are  most 
frequently  of  this  kind.  Of  the  particulars  which  will 
be  comprised  in  our  generalization,  only  a  certain 
number  are  accessible  to  observation. 

We  will  now  direct  our  attention  to  some  further 
considerations  regarding  the  relations  of  botany,  as  one 
of  the  biological  sciences,  to  those  preceding  it  in  the 
classification  we  have  adopted.  That  branch  of  physics 
which  immediately  precedes  it  is  chemistry,  the  most 
special  of  the  physical  sciences,  and  its  relations  with 
this  it  will  be  sufficient  for  us  to  examine  among  the 
antecedents. 

Chemistry,  like  the  biological  sciences,  penetrates  into 
the  intimate  constitution  of  natural  bodies,  and  more- 


lOO  PROFESSOR  HENFREY 

over,  the  bodies  subject  to  its  domain  exhibit  a  kind  of 
individuality  not  dependent  upon  ideas  of  number, 
density,  colour,  &c  alone,  but  upon  this  said  intimate 
constitution.  We  arrive  here  at  the  formation  of  certain 
abstract  notions,  for  the  purpose  of  classification,  which 
include  in  the  particulars  from  which  they  are  derived, 
both  statical  and  dynamical  characters.  These  abstrac- 
tions refer  to  the  idea  of  a  species^  which,  however,  is  far 
more  general  here  than  in  botany  or  zoology.  A  species 
in  chemistry  is  a  definite  compound  of  two  or  more 
elements,  in  obedience  to  certain  general  laws,  possessing 
certain  definite  characters,  by  which  it  may  be  known 
from  all  other  species  ;  the  relation  between  the  objects 
represented  in  this  conception  is  one  of  identity  in  all 
respects  but  that  of  simple  material  continuity  ;  the  in- 
dividuality of  separate  natural  objects  belonging  to  the 
given  species  depends  solely  upon  their  being  mecha- 
nically separated  from  each  other.  There  do  indeed 
exist  varieties  in  chemical  species  analogous  to  the 
varieties  of  species  in  living  nature,  but  these  partake 
of  the  same  unstable  individuality,  and  depend  upon 
physical  causes  of  great  generality.  Thus  the  allotropfc 
conditions  of  some  chemical  substances,  and  even 
perhaps  the  crj'stalline  or  amorphous  states  of  many, 
may  be  regarded  as  varieties  of  this  kind.  These 
species  are  remarkable,  not  only  from  the  generality  of 
their  nature,  but  from  their  immobility.  The  only  pos- 
sible change  in  a  chemical  species  is  its  conversion  into 
other  species,  or  transformation,  in  which  the  relations 
become  entirely  changed,  and  the  name  altered.  There 
is  nothing  like  development  here, — the  gradual  unfolding 
by  assimilation  and  transformation  of  material  received 
from  without 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  BOTANY.         loi 

In  the  organic  kingdoms  the  idea  of  the  species  is  an 
abstraction  from  very  different  facts.  The  objects  to 
which  it  refers  have  a  separate  individuality,  dependant 
upon  characters  non-existent  in  inorganic  bodies.  They 
are  incapable  of  transformation,  but  susceptible  of 
change  according  to  certain  laws ;  and  while  the 
chemical  individual  is  homogeneous,  and  can  only  be 
divided  into  parts,  of  which  each  equally  well  represents 
the  species,  the  biological  individual  is  divisible  in  parts 
of  different  kinds,  which  have  relations  of  harmony 
and  continuity,  but  by  no  means  of  homogeneity, 
these  parts  making  up  together  what  constitutes  the 
organism.  Thus  we  see  a  distinct  gradation  between 
chemistry  and  biology,  in  reference  to  the  generality 
of  the  notion  which  forms  the  basis  of  all  classification 
in  each. 

In  biology  itself  we  find  that  the  notion  of  the  indivi- 
dual is  modified  in  an  analogous  manner,  when  we  carry 
it  up  from  the  vegetable  into  the  animal  kingdom  ;  at 
all  events,  in  those  subjects  of  the  latter,  in  which 
animality  is  most  clearly  manifest. 

In  regard  to  taxonomy,  then,  or  classification,  botany 
stands  between  chemistry  and  zoology. 

In  reference  to  the  qualities  of  form  which  make 
their  first  appearance  in  minerals,  plants  show  an  ad- 
vance upon  the  inorganic  world,  since  the  angular  solid 
figures,  bounded  by  plane  surfaces  subject  to  the 
simplest  laws  of  geometry,  soon  become  complicated 
with  figures  bounded  by  curves ;  and  in  the  plants 
which  produce  a  stem  the  form  is  dependant  upon  the 
properties  of  spiral  curves.  In  the  animal  kingdom  the 
bilateral  symmetry,  which  is  only  traceable  in  the  ap- 
pendages of  the  trunk  in  plants,  becomes  the  general 


102  PROFESSOR   HENFREY 

rule  in  all,  except  certain  of  the  larger  groups ;  this  is 
manifestly  a  further  departure  from  the  geometrical 
forms  of  crystals,  and  indicates  a  gradation  m  advance 
of  the  forms  of  plants ;  the  more  especially  when  we 
remember  that  the  appendages  of  the  trunk  are  tlie 
organs  of  nutrition  and  reproduction,  therefore  of  life  in 
plants;  while  in  animals,  where  the  vegetative  life  is 
subordinate  to  a  higher,  these  organs  are  progressively 
more  and  more  completely  hidden  and  inclosed,  and  the 
variations  of  outward  form  depend  upon  a  new  set  of 
developments  of  the  trunk  or  central  axis,  forming  the 
organs  of  sense  and  volition,  or  animal  life. 

The  examination  of  the  outward  relations  of  natural 
objects  leads  to  the  same  co-ordination.  Mineral  or 
lifeless  bodies  can  only  retain  their  specific  identit)' 
while  at  rest,  that  is  to  say,  chemically  ;  they  change  in 
accordance  with  general  laws,  when  brought  into  contact 
with  each  other  ;  and  in  the  change  they  become  trans- 
formed into  other  species.  Animal  or  vegetable,  organized 
or  living  bodies,  constantly  manifest  action  and  change ; 
it  is  in  this  especially  that  their  life  consists ;  but  in  so 
doing  they  do  not  lose  their  specific  identity,  but  rather 
unfold  and  complete  the  characters  of  this.  The  actions 
performed  in  the  organization  are  partly  of  physical  and 
chemical  nature,  depending  upon  the  laws  of  these 
sciences,  but  are  subject  to  the  regulation  of  a  superior 
power  which  guides  and  directs  them,  maintaining  itself 
among  and  through  these,  but  distinct  from  them.  We 
may  compare  the  position  of  this  vital  force  of  organi- 
zation to  an  architect  employing  a  band  of  workmen  to 
construct  a  building,  he  only  designing  the  forms,  and 
leaving  them  to  find  the  materials  and  mechanical 
appliances.    When  the  whole  is  finished,  or  at  any  time 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  BOTANY.         IO3 

nrhen  the  architect  is  away,  the  whole  might  seem,  to  an 
ignorant  observer,  solely  the  result  of  the  labours  of  the 
w.orkmen;  so  we  can  only  see  the  results  of  the  ope- 
rations of  the  organic  force  in  the  material  products, 
originating  under  physical  laws.  But  when  we  have 
ascertained  the  extent  of  the  domains  of  these  physical 
laws,  we  find  that  they  do  not  reach  far  enough  to 
account  for  all.  In  vegetable  life,  absorption,  evapora- 
tion, diffusion  of  juices,  &c.,  are  physical  phenomena  ; 
assimilation,  respiration,  and  the  Ifke,  purely  chemical : 
but  no  physical,  no  chemical  law,  throws  any  light  upon 
the  process  of  reproduction,  upon  the  regeneration,  dis- 
tribution, and  subdivision  of  the  organic  force,  upon 
which  the  maintenance  of  the  living  creation  especially 
depends,  since  the  physical  forces  are  unceasingly 
striving  to  destroy  it.  Vital  action  must  be  regarded, 
therefore,  as  something  superadded  to  chemical  or  other 
physical  action. 

In  vital  phenomena  themselves,  the  same  subdivision 
holds  as  in  the  forms.  In  animals,  as  a  whole,  we  have 
a  striking  increase  of  complexity,  by  the  addition  of  the 
animal  or  affective  life  to  the  simple  organic  or  vegetable 
life.  In  vegetables,  the  existence  is  characterized  by 
phenomena  of  nutrition  and  reproduction  alone.  In  this 
there  is  a  relation  of  servitude  to  the  animal  kingdom, 
the  latter  being  wholly  dependent  on  plants  for  food, 
since  these  are  exclusively  capable  of  assimilating  in- 
organic substances  ;  while  animals  require  these  elements 
to  be  already  combined  into  proximate  principles,  or 
organic  substances.  In  animals,  nutrition  and  reproduc- 
tion constitute  merely  the  basis  for  phenomena  of  sense 
and  will.  It  is  obviously  unnecessary  to  pursue  this 
relation  any  further. 


104  PROKESSUR   HENFREY 

The  relation  of  botany  to  the  other  natural  sciences 
may  be  now  regarded  as  sufficiently  ascertained  in 
reference  to  its  objects  and  methods,  taken  as  a  whole. 
But  it  is  necessary,  for  the  proper  illustration  of  the 
relations  of  this  science  to  the  other  branches  of  know- 
ledge, to  enter  more  minutely  than  has  yet  been  done, 
into  the  characteristics  of  the  science  itself.  And  I  may 
premise  that  the  explanations  to  which  we  are  now 
about  to  proceed,  may  be  taken  generally  as  equally 
applicable  to  both  branches  of  biological  science,  BoL-ny 
and  Zoology. 

In  the  abstract  part  of  botany  we  have  to  lay  down 
three  divisions,  viz : — 

1.  Morphology  (or  anatomy),  treating  of  the  gene- 
ralizations, laws,  or  principles  relating  to  the  form  or 
oi^anization  of  plants. 

2.  Physiology,  treating  of  the  generalizations,  laws, 
or  principles  relating  to  the  acts,  or  vital  processes  of 
plants. 

3.  Taxonomy,  treating  of  the  principles  of  classifica- 
tion of  plants. 

The  concrete  part  of  the  science  consists  of  the 
natural  history  of  plants,  in  which  we  study  the  entire 
set  of  phenomena  presented  by  individiiil  plants  or 
groups  of  plants,  or  even  parts  of  plants,  ^ith  a  view 
to  practical  applications. 

Abstract  botany,  phytology  proper,  or,  as  the  Germans 
call  it,  scientific  botany,  forms  the  basis  upon  which  the 
concrete  study,  or  natural  hi.story  of  plants,  must  rest ; 
and  this  latter  will  be  rational  and  fruitful  in  applicarion, 
in  proportion  to  the  guiding  lights  furnished  by  abstract 
science.  But  it  docs  not  follow  from  this,  that  it  is 
indispensable  for  every  prosecutor  of  natural  history  to 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF    BOTANY.  IO5 

verify  or  repeat  the  propositions  of  the  abstract  science  • 
in  fact,  the  enunciation  and  demonstration  of  them,  which 
form  the  great  business  of  the  philosophical  botanist, 
would  scarcely  come  within  the  sphere  of  possibility  for 
the  generality  of  mankind,  busied  with  other  matters. 
At  the  same  time,  it  is  an  almost  indispensable  condition 
of  success  to  those  who  prosecute  natural  history  in  a 
concrete  form,  that  they  should  study  and  adopt  the 
principles  which  have  been  ascertained  in  the  abstract 
part  of  the  science ;  since  otherwise,  only  chance,  or  a 
superhuman  amount  of  labour,  can  ensure  their  disen- 
tangling the  essentials  from  the  mass  of  complicated 
phenomena  which  present  themselves  in  every  observa- 
tion upon  living  nature. 

Morphology,  or  the  philosophical  anatomy  of  plants, 
is  the  branch  of  science  which  is  devoted  to  the  investi- 
gation of  the  principles  which  underlie  all  the  multitudi- 
nous conditions  of  form  presented  by  the  organized 
beings  of  this  kingdom.  It  proceeds  by  two  paths — an 
analytical  and  a  synthetical — by  the  analysis  or  dissec- 
tioii  of  full-grown  plants  and  their  structures  (including 
their  teratological  or  abnormal  conditions),  and  by 
observation  of  the  gradual  development  of  these  from 
the  embryonal  condition.  By  the  pursuit  of  these  paths 
we  arrive  at  a  double  series  of  the  forms  of  paths ;  one 
half  resting  on  the  different  orders  of  characters  in  the 
same  species,  the  other  on  the  different  characters  of  the 
same  order  in  different  species.  In  arranging  the  parts 
in  the  first  series,  we  advance  progressively  from  the 
organic  elements  to  the  tissues,  from  these  to  the  organs, 
and  thence  to  the  entire  organism  ;  in  arranging  them  in 
the  second  series,  we  trace  the  progressive  complexity  of 
the  elements,  tissues,  organs,  and  organisms,  in  the  dif- 


f06  PROFESSOR   HENI'REY 

fcrent  ranks  of  beings,  or  in  the  different  stages  ol 
development  of  the  same  being. 

In  the  first  process — simple  anatomy — we  perform 
the  first  operation  for  the  investigation  of  laws,  the 
separation  of  the  particular  parts;  in  the  second — in 
comparative  anatomy,  teratology,  and  embr>'ogeny — we 
are  able  to  make  use  of  analogical  reasoning,  or  tenta- 
tive induction,  in  two  distinct  ways,  whereby  the  agree- 
ment of  results  gives  a  degree  of  certainty  to  our 
generalisations,  wiiich  the  nature  of  the  objects  would 
prevent  our  acquiring  by  any  other  means. 

The  same  characteristics  apply  to  the  modes  of  inves- 
tigation in  physiology  (including  pathology,  or  the  study 
of  abnormal  deviations  from  vital  laws),  which  is  pursued 
in  a  precisely  similar  manner,  but  is  directed,  not  to  the 
ascertainment  of  the  laws  of  development  of  form,  but 
the  laws  of  vitality,  on  which  depend  the  manifestations 
of  activity  in  those  forms  of  organization. 

In  each  department  of  the  science,  morphology  and 
physiolog)',  we  are  led  to  the  recognition  of  a  series 
which  must  serve  as  the  basis  of  a  natural  classification 
of  the  objects  of  study.  The  inductions  of  these  two 
branches  lay  the  foundation  of  the  third,  namely,  tax- 
onomy; and  the  classification  established  upon  these 
grounds  has  a  pre-eminent  claim  to  the  title  of  a  natural 
classification,  since  it  is  found  that  the  conclusions 
derived  from  morpholo^^  and  physiology  coincide  in 
|X)inting  out  the  rank  to  be  assigned  to  any  organic 
beings,  or  group  of  such  beings.  The  form  corresponds 
to  the  function,  in  the  degree  of  complexity  of  the  laws 
upon  which  each  depends. 

Taxonomy,  therefore,  rests  upon  principles  obtained 
by  induction  from  morphology  and  physiology,  as  these 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  BOTANY.         107 

rest,  each  upon  the  basis  of  comparative  anatomy,  tera- 
tology, and  embryology,  and  thus  a  well-established 
classification  of  organic  beings  enables  us  to  study  any 
one,  or  any  group  of  them,  in  its  proper  order  as  regards 
complication  of  organization,  and  allows  of  our  placing 
any  kind  previously  unknown  in  its  proper  situation ; 
while  the  situation  which  the  object  or  group  of  objects 
occupies  in  the  classification,  affords  us  at  once  a  general 
idea  of  its  organization,  its  mode  of  life,  and  with  what 
other  objects  it  is  to  be  compared. 

In  Botany,  the  facts  of  physiology  are  very  general, 
and,  in  regard  to  the  comparison  of  different  plants, 
would  seem  scarcely  to  aid  us  in  the  establishment  of  a 
classification,  beyond  the  constitution  of  the  great  groups 
of  plants  ;  but  as  applied  in  the  co-ordination  of  the 
difierent  kinds  of  organs  in  the  same  plants,  they  form 
a  most  important  element  in  the  institution  of  groups, 
founded  on  the  difference  of  form  of  these  organs  in 
diff'erent  plants.  In  other  words,  the  diversity  of  phy- 
siological phenomena  in  vegetables  is  comparatively 
slight,  but  the  diversity  of  forms  of  homologous  organs 
is  very  great,  and  the  rank  which  the  diversified  forms 
shall  hold  as  characters  in  a  natural  classification,  de- 
pends upon  the  physiological  value  of  the  organs  in 
which  they  occur. 

It  is  upon  organography  that  the  greater  part  of  the 
details  of  classification  depend  ;  accurate  descriptions 
of  the  organs  whose  homologies  are  ascertained  by 
morphological  and  physiological  inductions,  constituting 
the  materials  upon  which  all  the  generalizations  of  tax- 
onomy are  finally  based.  By  organography  we  obtain 
accurate  descriptions  of  the  phenomena  of  form,  that 
is   to   say,    representations,   in   fixed    and   unequivocal 


f08  PROFESSOR  HENFREY 

language,  of  the  appearances  of  the  objects  wth  which 
the  science  deals  ;  and  when  these  are  studied  in  their 
connexion  in  individual  organisms,  we  obtain  such  de- 
scriptions of  living  beings  as  enable  us  to  compare 
them  scientifically  with  one  another.  These  compari- 
sons lead  to  the  discrimination  of  resemblances  and 
differences.  Under  the  guidance  of  ascertained  laws 
of  physiology  and  morphology,  we  are  enabled  to 
separate  in  these  the  essential  from  the  inessential : 
then,  by  abstraction  of  the  essential  resemblances,  and 
dropping  out  of  consideration  the  inessential  differences, 
we  obtain  the  notion  of  a  type.  This  notion  of  a  type, 
abstracted  from  the  actual  individual  representations  of 
the  species,  forms  the  unit  of  all  natural  history  classifi- 
cations ;  and  the  groups  into  which  the  species  are  sub- 
sequently successively  collected  are  all  founded  upon  a 
similar  principle  of  abstraction,  under  this  condition — 
that  the  essentiality  of  the  resemblances  becomes  pro- 
gressively limited  to  characters  which  are  more  general 
in  a  morphological  or  physiological  point  of  view. 

As  the  taxonomy,  or  the  classification  of  plants,  is 
that  department  of  botany  which  gives  it  a  special  utility 
as  a  means  of  mental  training ;  as  it  is  on  this  ground, 
above  all,  that  it  founds  a  claim  to  form  a  part  of 
general  education,  it  may  be  permitted  me  to  enter  into 
some  technical  details  here,  to  illustrate  and  enforce  the 
propositions  just  iaid  down.  In  the  first  place,  the  ter- 
minology of  botany  demands  attention.  It  is  a  funda« 
mental  condition  of  the  existence  of  organography,  that 
the  botanist  should  possess  a  rigidly  defined  tcchnic.il 
language,  a  store  of  descriptive  terms,  sufficiently 
copious  to  denote  every  part  and  every  quality  of  the 
parts  of  plants  by  a  distinct  name,  fixed,  and  unalterable 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   BOTANY.  IO9 

in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  employed.  The  technical 
language  of  botany,  as  elaborated  by  Linnaeus  and  his 
school,  has  long  been  the  admiration  of  logical  and 
philosophical  writers,  and  has  indeed  been  carried  to 
great  perfection.  Every  word  has  its  definition,  and  caii 
convey  but  one  notion  to  those  who  have  once  mastered 
the  language.  The  technicalities,  therefore,  of  botanical 
language,  which  are  vulgarly  regarded  as  imperfections, 
and  as  repulsive  to  the  inquirer,  are  in  reality  the  very 
marks  of  its  completeness,  and  far  from  offering  a  reason 
for  withholding  the  science  from  ordinary  education, 
constitute  its  great  recommendation,  as  a  method  of 
training  in  accuracy  of  expression  and  habits  of  de- 
scribing definitely  and  unequivocally  the  observations 
made  by  the  use  of  the  senses.  The  acquisition  of  the 
terms  applied  to  the  different  parts  of  plants  exercises 
the  memory,  while  the  mastery  of  the  use  of  the  adjec- 
tives of  terminology  cultivates,  in  a  most  beneficial 
manner,  a  habit  of  accuracy  and  perspicuity  in  the  use 
of  language.  What  is  called  the  nomenclature  of  botany 
refers  to  the  names  given  to  the  abstract  notions  of 
the  kinds  of  beings  dealt  with  in  classification — to  the 
species,  genera,  families,  and  so  on.  These  refer  not 
merely  to  the  possession  of  particular  attributes,  but 
carry  with  them  the  idea  of  those  attributes  being  dis- 
tinctive of  a  kind  of  things ;  that  is,  they  carry  with 
them  not  only  their  definition  founded  upon  qualities, 
but  the  idea,  superadded  to  their  definition,  that  these 
qualities  are  characteristic  of  an  abstraction.  On  this 
ground,  it  has  been  assumed  that  they  differ  in  their 
logical  value  from  the  names  used  in  terminolog)-,  but 
there  does  not  appear  to  be  sufiicient  evidence  of  this. 
The  names  of  plants  or  animals  represent   in  classifi- 


no  PROFESSOR   HENFREY 

cation  those  used  in  orjjanojjraphy  to  denote  organs  or 
parts,  homologous  organs  standing  in  the  same  logii:al 
relations  as  the  individuals  of  a  species. 

The  principles  of  nomenclature  in  botany  an<l 
zoology,  since  the  time  of  Linnseus,  have  proceeded 
essentially  upon  abstract  grounds  as  regards  species, 
the  names  not  necessarily  conveying  in  themselves 
any  notion  but  that  of  kind.  The  nomenclature  of 
chemistry  differs  greatly  in  this  respect,  since  the  names 
of  the  kinds  or  species  generally  represent  their  com- 
position. The  names  of  plants  or  animals  are  analogous 
to  the  proper  names  of  men,  used  in  civilized  nations  to 
economize  words  and  assist  the  memory.  The  diflfcrent 
kinds  have  not  independent  names,  but  are  designated 
as  members  of  groups  of  kinds,  distinguished  from  each 
other  by  an  adjective  term,  either  indicating  a  distinctive 
quality  or  not,  but  in  any  case  only  necessarily  connoting 
a  certain  abstract  definition  of  the  kind.  This  abstract 
definition  is  not  arbitrary,  derived  from  a  given  type, 
but  constructed  by  the  collection  of  the  most  general 
characters  from  all  those  individuals  which  we  conceive 
to  agree  in  kind.  With  regard  to  the  organic  species,  we 
have  certain  other  resorts,  besides  direct  characters,  by 
which  we  are  enabled  to  judge  as  to  the  agreement  in 
kind,  as,  for  example,  in  the  physiological  phenomena 
of  reproduction.  The  notion  of  a  type  which  comes  in 
here  is  not  used  in  the  sense  of  a  typical  individual, 
but  as  an  abstract  standard  of  reference.*  Species  arc 
combined  into  groups   according  to  the   principle   -.if 

•  Tbii  luitunil-hiitory  tignification  of  a  type  seem*  to  correspond  with  the 
Kotinti  of  a  ty|»e  or  ideal  iinn(^  as  used  in  the  fine  arts,  formed  l)yconi. 
biuing  all  the  char.-iclcri»tic  itcrfections,  and  omitting  all  the  incHsential  oi 
irciieiitaJ  impcrfixtions  ol  a  ktmd. 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   BOTANY.  in 

agreement ;  but  these  groups,  called  gfenera,  have  not 
the  same  biological  isolation,  at  all  events  in  plants^ 
as  the  collections  of  individuals  constituting  a  species. 
They  are  constituted,  however,  practically  by  the  same 
method — by  bringing  together  those  species  which  agree 
with  each  other  more  than  they  do  with  any  other 
species,  in  the  greatest  number  of  important  character- 
istics. These  groups,  in  biological  language  as  in 
common  life,  are  the  first  which  receive  substantive 
names,  and  the  species  which  they  include  are  distin- 
guished by  adjectives  appended ;  thus,  the  botanical 
name  rosa,  like  the  common  word  rose,  indicates  a 
genus,  including  many  species,  which  are  distinguished 
by  such  appended  terms  as  caiiina,  the  dog-rose,  centi- 
foHa,  the  hundred-leaved  rose,  &c.  The  mental  t3'pes  of 
genera  are  more  abstract  than  those  of"  species,  and  they 
become  less  and  less  definite  as  our  groups  rise  in  the 
scale  of  generality,  presenting  more  and  more  clearly  the 
universal  character  of  such  types,  so  that  they  are  embo- 
diments of  a  certain  definite  character  which  we  admit 
to  be  associated  with  others  unknown  or  undefined. 

The  genera  are  gathered  into  groups  called  orders,  or 
families,  founded  upon  similar  considerations.  In  this 
way  we  bring  the  vast  mass  of  existing  species  into  a 
smaller  and  more  manageable  number  of  collections, 
represented  by  abstractions,  in  which  are  contained  all 
their  essential  characters  of  resemblance  or  agreement. 
There,  however,  we  see  the  groups  composed  of  smaller 
groups,  which  have  a  collateral  agreement  or  equality  of 
taxonomic  characters  among  themselves ;  but  we  find 
these  groups  coming  into  a  new  relation — a  relation  of 
gradation  or  serial  progression.  Thip  is  the  case  even 
with  the  order<?  as  included  in  the  classes,  and  still  more 


112  PROFESSOR  HENFREY 

when  we  examine  the  plan  of  the  classes  or  grand 
divisions  of  the  vegetable  kingdom. 

Taking  as  a  guide  the  same  principles  which  lead  us 
in  the  estimation  of  the  value  of  differences  and  agree- 
ment in  the  characters  of  species,  we  find  that  the  types 
of  the  orders  are  susceptible  of  co-ordination  in  a  series 
which  shall  represent  the  degree  of  complexity  of  the 
phenomena  in  which  they  exhibit  the  characteristics  of 
vegetable  life.  Vegetation  or  organic  growth,  and  re- 
production, are  the  two  principal  phenomena  of  vegetable 
life,  growth  being  the  lowest  attribute,  least  raised  above 
inorganic  accretion — reproduction,  the  higher,  related  to, 
and  indeed  identical  in  its  characters  with,  the  reproduc- 
tion of  animals.  The  gradual  specialization  of  vegetable 
structures,  their  distribution  into  distinct  organs,  the 
gradual  elimination  of  the  reproductive  organs  from  the 
vegetative,  until  they  become  quite  organically  inde- 
pendent— these  give  the  order  in  which  the  series  of 
the  vegetable  families  must  stand,  this  co-ordination 
being  not  merely  the  only  one  which  can  be  rationally 
derived  from  morphology  and  physiology,  in  the  view  of 
exhibiting  the  natural  affininitics  of  plants,  but  becom- 
ing, like  all  natural  classifications,  an  instrument  of 
discovery  in  the  intermediate  particulars  by  analogical 
reasoning.* 

The  following  table  will  illustrate  these  points.  In  it 
aie  laid  down  the  principal  classes  into  which  the  vege* 
table  kingdom  is  divided,  according  to  the  laws  of  clas«ii- 
fication  here  enforced. 

*  Uo  the  method  of  oonoomiuuit  variatioai. 


ON  THE  STUDY   OF  BOTANY.  II3 

VEGETABLE  KINGDOM. 

Thallophyta  : — 
Fungales. 
Lichenales. 
Algales. 
Gjrmophyta: — 

Sporocarpia. 

AXOGAMIA : — 

HepaticaleJ 
,  Muscales. 

Thallogamia — 

Filicales. 
Equisetales. 
Sporogamia  : — 

Lycopodiales. 
Marsileales. 
Spermocarpia  : — 

Gymnospermia. 
Angiospennia. 

Monocotyledones. 
Dicolyledones. 

The  largfe  groups  succeeding  each  other  in  this  table 
exhibit  a  picgression  of  morphological  and  physiological 
complexity,  while  collateral  relations  of  the  same  nature 
exist  in  proportionate  complexity  in  the  particular 
groups. 

The  length  to  which  I  have  dwelt  upon  this  subject  of 
classification  may  be  justified  by  the  following  quotation 
from  an  eminent  writer  of  the  present  day:*  "Although 
the  scientific  arrangements  of  organic  nature  afford  as 
yet  the  only  complete  example  of  rational  classification, 
whether  as  to  the  formation  of  groups  or  series,  these 
principles  are  applicable  to  all  cases  in  which  mankind 
are  called  upon  to  bring  the  various  parts  of  any  exten- 
sive subject  into  mental   co-ordination.      They  are  as 

*  John  S.  Mill,  Logic,  2d  ed.  ii.  334. 


114  PROFESSOR    HENFREY 

much  to  the  point  when  objects  are  to  be  classed  foi 
purposes  of  art  or  business  as  for  those  of  science.  The 
proper  arrangement,  for  example,  of  a  code  of  laws 
depends  upon  the  same  scientific  conditions  as  the 
classifications  in  natural  history;  nor  could  there  be  a 
better  preparatory  discipline  for  that  important  function, 
than  a  study  of  the  principles  of  a  natural  arrangement, 
not  only  in  the  abstract,  but  in  their  actual  application 
to  the  class  of  phenomena  for  which  they  were  first 
elaborated,  and  which  are  still  the  best  school  for  learn- 
ing their  use." 

It  remains  now  to  direct  attention  briefly  to  the  rela- 
tions of  botanical  science  to  various  applied  and  abstract 
sciences,  which  are  partly  or  wholly  dependent  upon  it 

In  the  first  place,  it  must  be  evident  to  every  one  that 
the  general  physiology  of  plants  (which  presupposes  a 
knowledge  of  the  physical  and  chemical  laws  influencing 
them),  together  with  the  concrete  natural  history  of  the 
species  dealt  with,  must  form  the  only  secure  basis  of 
scientific  agriculture  ;  that  it  has  not  been  fully  recognised 
as  such  hitherto,  depends  upon  its  inevitable  imperfec- 
tions, which,  however,  will  be  the  sooner  removed,  in 
proportion  as  agriculturists  devote  themselves  to  the 
study  of  physiological  laws. 

Secondly,  botany  finds  a  place  in  the  two  cosmological 
sciences  studying  the  past  and  present  conditions  of  the 
globe — Geology  and  Geography. 

The  perishable  nature  of  vegetable  structures  dofis, 
indeed,  render  fossil  remains  of  plants  less  valuable  as 
objects  for  palxontological  reasonings,  than  the  better- 
preserved  hard  parts  of  animals,  especially  as  the  latter 
alTord  safer  grounds  for  estimating  how  much  has  teen 
kMt,  how  much  preserved,  of  ancient  forms  of  oi^aniza- 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  BOTANY.         115 

tion.  But  botanical  reasoning^s  form  an  essential  link  in 
geological  inductions,  although  it  is  requisite  to  be  very 
careful  in  applying  the  analogical  method,  derived  from 
classification,  to  the  history  of  the  development  of  the 
organic  creation. 

In  geography,  that  is,  physical  geography,  the  concrete 
natural  history  of  plants  becomes  a  portion  of  the  con- 
crete natural  history  of  the  globe  ;  the  physiological  laws 
are  involved  with  physical  laws  of  climate,  soil,  &c.,  in 
the  explanations  of  possible  distributions,'  either  in  an 
abstract  point  of  view,  or  for  the  purpose  of  practical 
application  ;  while  the  systematic  classifications,  and  the 
natural  history  of  particular  species,  become  the  only 
guide  by  which  we  can  attempt  to  trace  back  the  exist- 
ing conditions  of  distribution  towards  their  origin,  and 
thus  perform  the  share  due  from  botany;  in  the  historical 
connexion  of  physical  geography  with  geology,  of  which 
it  is  properly  only  the  statical  part. 

In  conclusion,  I  have  one  remark  to  make  regarding 
the  discourse  I  have  just  addressed  to  you.  It  will  be 
observed  that  the  subject  which  I  was  called  upon  to 
expound,  was  the  relations  of  botanical  science  to  the 
other  branches  of  knowledge,  and  not  the  science  of 
botany  itself,  the  special  facts  and  laws  of  which,  con- 
sequently, and  especially  in  addressing  an  audience 
gathered  together  for  educational  purposes,  have  been 
Icept  back  beyond  what  was  absolutely  necessary  to  its 
proper  characterization  ;  and  I  have  dwelt  upon  the 
study  as  a  means  of  mental  discipline,  and  on  its  prac- 
tical application,  rather  than  as  a  branch  of  science 
pursuing  knowledge  for  its  own  sake.  Let  it  not  be 
supposed  that  I  do  not  prize  it  for  its  last  attribute, 
for  indeed  I  regard  this  as  the  highest  and  best ;  and  I 


Il6  PROFESSOR  HENFREY  ON  THE  STUDY  OF  BOTANY. 

might  express  my  own  feelings  in  the  well-known  words 
of  the  wise  king :  "  It  is  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal  a 
thing,  but  the  glory  of  a  king  to  search  it  out." 

If  any  ask  still,  to  what  end  ?  I  would  quote  to  him 
the  assurance  of  the  great  restorer  of  science — "  Only 
let  mankind  regain  their  rights  over  nature,  assigned 
to  them  by  the  gift  of  God;  that  power  obtained,  its 
exercise  will  be  governed  by  right  reason  and  true 
religioa" 


ON  THE  METHOD  OF  STUDYING 
ZOOLOGY. 


A  LECTURE  DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE  SCIENCE  CLASSES 
AT  THE  SOUTH  KENSINGTON  MUSEUM. 


BT 
THOMAS  H.  HUXLEY,  FR.S.,  LL.D. 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  ZOOLOGY. 


Natural  History  is  the  name  familiarly  applied 
to  the  study  of  the  properties  of  such  natural  bodies 
as  minerals,  plants,  and  animals ;  the  sciences  which 
embody  the  knowledge  man  has  acquired  upon  these 
subjects  are  commonly  termed  Natural  Sciences,  in  con- 
tradistinction to  other,  so  called  "  physical,"  sciences  ; 
and  those  who  devote  themselves  especially  to  the 
pursuit  of  such  sciences  have  been,  and  are,  commonly 
termed  "  Naturalists." 

Linnaeus  was  a  naturalist  in  this  wide  sense,  and  his 
"  Systema  Naturae"  was  a  work  upon  natural  history,  in 
the  broadest  acceptation  of  the  term  ;  in  it,  that  great 
methodizing  spirit  embodied  all  that  was  known  in  his 
time  of  the  distinctive  characters  of  minerals,  animals, 
and  plants.  But  the  enormous  stimulus  which  Linnaeus 
gave  to  the  investigation  of  nature  soon  rendered  it 
impossible  that  any  one  man  should  write  another 
"  Systema  Naturae,"  and  extremely  difficult  for  any  one 
to  become  a  naturalist  such  as  Linnaeus  was. 

Great  as  have  been  the  advances  made  by  all  the  three 

branches  of  science,  of  old  included  under  the  title  of 

natural  history,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  zoology  and 

botany  have  grown  in  an  enormously  greater  ratio  than 

9 


120  PROFESSOR   HUXLEY 

mineralogy ;  and  htnce,  as  I  suppose,  the  name  of 
"natural  history"  has  gradually  become  more  and  more 
definitely  attached  to  these  prominent  divisions  of  the 
subject,  and  by  "  naturalist "  people  have  meant  more 
and  more  distinctly  to  imply  a  student  of  the  structure 
and  functions  of  living  beings. 

However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  the  advance  of 
knowledge  has  gradually  widened  the  distance  between 
mineralogy  and  its  old  associates,  while  it  has  drawn 
zoology  and  botany  closer  together ;  so  that  of  late 
years  it  has  been  found  convenient  (and  indeed  neces- 
sary) to  associate  the  sciences  which  deal  with  vitality 
and  all  its  phenomena  under  the  common  head  of 
•*  biology ; "  and  the  biologists  have  come  to  repudiate 
any  blood-relationship  with  their  foster-brothers,  the 
mineralogists. 

Certain  broad  laws  have  a  general  application 
throughout  both  the  animal  and  the  vegetable  worlds, 
but  the  ground  common  to  these  kingdoms  of  nature  is 
not  of  very  wide  extent,  and  the  multiplicity  of  details 
is  so  great,  that  the  student  of  living  beings  finds  him- 
self obliged  to  devote  his  attention  exclusively  either  to 
the  one  or  the  other.  If  he  elects  to  study  plants,  under 
any  aspect,  we  know  at  once  what  to  call  him ;  he  is  a 
botanist,  and  his  science  is  botany.  But  if  the  investi- 
gation of  animal  life  be  his  choice,  the  name  generally 
applied  to  him  will  vary,  according  to  the  kind  of 
animals  he  studies,  or  the  particular  phenomena  of 
animal  life  to  which  he  confines  his  attention.  If  the 
study  of  man  is  his  object,  he  is  called  an  anatomist,  or 
a  physiologist,  or  an  ethnologist ;  but  if  he  dissects 
animals,  or  examines  into  the  mode  in  which  their  func- 
tions are  performed,  he  is  a  comparative  anatomist  oi 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  ZOOLOGY.         121 

comparative  physiologist.  If  he  turns  his  attention  to 
fossil  animals,  he  is  a  palaeontologist.  If  his  mind  is 
more  particularly  directed  to  the  description,  specific 
discrimination,  classification,  and  distribution  of  animals, 
he  is  termed  a  zoologist. 

For  the  purposes  of  the  present  discourse,  however,  I 
shall  recognise  none  of  these  titles  save  the  last,  which  I 
shall  employ  as  the  equivalent  of  botanist,  and  I  shall 
use  the  term  zoology  as  denoting  the  whole  doctrine  of 
animal  life,  in  contradistinction  from  botany,  which 
signifies  the  whole  doctrine  of  vegetable  life. 

Employed  in  this  sense,  zoology,  like  botany,  is  divi- 
sible into  three  great  but  subordinate  sciences,  mor- 
phology, physiology,  and  distribution,  each  of  which 
may,  to  a  very  great  extent,  be  studied  independently 
of  the  other. 

Zoological  morphology  is  the  doctrine  of  animal  form 
or  structure.  Anatomy  is  one  of  its  branches,  develop- 
ment is  another ;  while  classification  is  the  expression  of 
the  relations  which  different  animals  bear  to  one  an- 
other, in  respect  of  their  anatomy  and  their  development. 

Zoological  distribution  is  the  study  of  animals  in 
relation  to  the  terrestrial  conditions  which  obtain  now, 
or  have  obtained  at  any  previous  epoch  of  the  earth's 
history. 

Zoological  physiology,  lastly,  is  the  doctrine  of  the 
functions  or  actions  of  animals.  It  regards  animal 
bodies  as  machines  impelled  by  certain  forces,  and  per- 
forming an  amount  of  work,  which  can  be  expressed  in 
terms  of  the  ordinary  forces  of  nature.  The  final  object 
of  physiology  is  to  deduce  the  facts  of  morphology  on 
the  one  hand,  and  those  of  distribution  on  the  other,  from 
the  laws  of  the  molecular  forces  of  matter. 


laa  PROFESSOR    HUXLEY 

Such  is  the  scope  of  zoology.  But  if  I  were  to  con« 
tent  mysvlf  with  the  enunciation  of  these  dry  defi- 
nitions, I  should  ill  exemplify  that  method  of  teaching 
this  branch  of  physical  science,  which  it  is  my  chief 
business  to-night  to  recommend.  Let  us  turn  away  then 
from  abstract  definitions.  Let  us  take  .some  concrete 
living  thing,  some  animal,  the  commoner  the  better,  nnd 
let  us  see  how  the  application  of  common  sense  and 
common  logic  to  the  obvious  facts  it  presents,  inevitably 
leads  us  into  all  these  branches  of  zoological  science. 

I  have  before  me  a  lobster.  When  I  examine  it,  what 
appears  to  be  the  most  striking  character  it  presents  ? 
Why,  I  observe  that  this  part  which  we  call  the  tail  of 
the  lobster,  is  made  up  of  six  distinct  hard  rings  and  a 
seventh  terminal  piece.  If  I  separate  one  of  the  middle 
rings,  say  the  third,  I  find  it  carries  upon  its  under  sur- 
face a  pair  of  limbs  or  appendages,  each  of  which  con- 
sists of  a  stalk  and  two  terminal  pieces.  So  that  I  can 
represent  a  transverse  section  of  the  ring  and  its  appen- 
dages upon  the  diagram  board  in  this  way. 

If  I  now  take  the  fourth  ring  I  find  it  has  the  same 
structure,  and  so  have  the  fifth  and  the  second  ;  so  that 
in  each  of  these  divisions  of  the  tail  I  find  parts  which 
correspond  with  one  another,  a  ring  and  two  appen- 
dages; and  in  each  appendage  a  stalk  and  two  end 
pieces.  These  corresponding  parts  are  called,  in  the 
technical  language  of  anatomy,  "homologous  parts." 
The  ring  of  the  third  division  is  the  "homologue"  of 
the  ring  of  the  fifth,  the  appendage  of  the  former  is  the 
homologue  of  the  appendage  of  the  latter.  And  as  each 
division  exhibits  corresponding  parts  in  corresponding 
places,  we  say  that  all  the  divisions  are  constructed  upon 
the  same  plan.     But  now  let  us  consider  the  sixth  divi- 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   ZOOLOGY:  X23 

sion.  It  is  similar  to,  and  yet  different  from,  the  others. 
The  ring  is  essentially  the  same  as  in  the  other  divi- 
sions ;  but  the  appendages  look  at  first  as  if  they  were 
very  different ;  and  yet  when  we  regard  them  closely, 
what  do  we  find  ?  A  stalk  and  two  terminal  divisions, 
exactly  as  in  the  others,  but  the  stalk  is  very  short  and 
very  thick,  the  terminal  divisions  are  very  broad  and 
flat,  and  one  of  them  is  divided  into  two  pieces. 

I  may  say,  therefore,  that  the  sixth  segment  is  like  the 
others  in  plan,  but  that  it  is  modified  in  its  details. 

The  first  segment  is  like  the  others,  so  far  as  its  ring  it 
concerned,  and  though  its  appendages  differ  from  any  of 
those  yet  examined  in  the  simplicity  of  their  structure 
parts  corresponding  with  the  stem  and  one  of  the  divi- 
sions of  the  appendages  of  the  other  segments  can  b*: 
readily  discerned  in  them. 

Thus  it  appears  that  the  lobster's  tail  is  composed  of 
a  series  of  segments  which  are  fundamentally  similar, 
though  each  presents  peculiar  modifications  of  the  plan 
common  to  all.  But  when  I  turn  to  the  fore  part  of  the 
body  I  see,  at  first,  nothing  but  a  great  shield-like  shell, 
called  technically  the  "  carapace,"  ending  in  front  in  a 
sharp  spine,  on  either  side  of  which  are  the  curious 
compound  eyes,  set  upon  the  ends  of  stout  moveable 
stalks.  Behind  these,  on  the  under  side  of  the  body,  are 
two  pairs  of  long  feelers  or  antennae,  followed  by  six 
pairs  of  jaws,  folded  against  one  another  over  the 
mouth,  and  five  pairs  of  legs,  the  foremost  of  these 
being  the  great  pinchers,  or  claws,  of  the  lobster. 

It  looks,  at  first,  a  little  hopeless  to  attempt  to  find  in 
this  complex  mass  a  series  of  rings,  each  with  its  pair  of 
appendages,  such  as  I  have  shown  you  in  the  abdomen, 
and  yet  it  is  not  difficult  to  demonstrate  their  existence 


124  PROFESSOR  HUXLEY 

Strip  off  the  legs,  and  you  will  find  that  each  pair  Uk 
attached  to  a  very  definite  segment  of  the  under  wall 
of  the  body ;  but  these  segments,  instead  of  being  the 
lower  parts  of  free  rings,  as  in  the  tail,  are  such  parts  oC 
rings  which  are  all  solidly  united  and  bound  together; 
and  the  like  is  true  of  the  jaws,  the  feelers,  and  the  eye- 
stalks,  every  pair  of  which  is  borne  upon  its  own  special 
segment  Thus  the  conclusion  is  gradually  forced  upon 
us,  that  the  body  of  the  lobster  is  composed  of  as  many 
rings  as  there  are  pairs  of  appendages,  namely,  twenty 
in  all,  but  that  the  six  hindmost  rings  remain  free  and 
moveable,  while  the  fourteen  front  rings  become  firmly 
soldered  together,  their  backs  forming  one  continuous 
shield — the  carapace. 

Unity  of  plan,  diversity  in  execution,  is  the  lesson 
taught  by  the  study  of  the  rings  of  the  body,  and  the 
same  instruction  is  given  still  more  emphatically  by  the 
appendages.  If  I  examine  the  outermost  jaw  I  find  it 
consists  of  three  distinct  portions,  an  inner,  a  middle,  and 
an  outer,  mounted  upon  a  common  stem  ;  and  if  I  com- 
pare this  jaw  with  the  legs  behind  it,  or  the  jaws  in 
front  of  it,  I  find  it  quite  easy  to  see,  that,  in  the  legs,  it 
is  the  part  of  the  appendage  which  corresponds  with  the 
inner  division,  which  becomes  modified  into  what  we 
know  familiarly  as  the  "  leg,"  while  the  middle  division 
disappears,  and  the  outer  division  is  hidden  under  the 
carapace.  Nor  is  it  more  difficult  to  discern  that,  in  the 
appendages  of  the  tail,  the  middle  division  appears 
again  and  the  outer  vanishes  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
in  the  foremost  jaw,  the  so-called  mandible,  the  inner 
division  only  is  left ;  and,  in  the  same  way,  the  parts  of 
the  feelers  and  of  the  eye-staiks  can  be  identified  with 
those  of  the  legs  and  jaws. 


ON   THE   STUDY  OF   ZOOLOGY.  125 

But  whither  does  all  this  tend  ?  To  the  very  remark- 
able conclusion  that  a  unity  of  plan,  of  the  same  kind  as 
that  discoverable  in  the  tail  or  abdomen  of  the  lobster, 
pervades  the  whole  organization  of  its  skeleton,  so  that 
I  can  return  to  the  diagram  representing  any  one  of  the 
rings  of  the  tail,  which  I  drew  upon  the  board,  and  by 
adding  a  third  division  to  each  appendage,  I  can  use  it 
as  a  sort  of  scheme  or  plan  of  any  ring  of  the  body.  I 
can  give  names  to  all  the  parts  of  that  figure,  and  then 
if  I  take  any  segment  of  the  body  of  the  lobster,  I  can 
point  out  to  you  exactly,  what  modification  the  general 
plan  has  undergone  in  that  particular  segment ;  what 
part  has  remained  moveable,  and  what  has  become  fixed 
to  another;  what  has  been  excessively  developed  and 
metamorphosed,  and  what  has  been  suppressed. 

But  I  imagine  I  hear  the  question.  How  is  all  this  to 
be  tested  .-*  No  doubt  it  is  a  pretty  and  ingenious  way 
of  looking  at  the  structure  of  any  animal,  but  is  it  any- 
thing more  }  Does  Nature  acknowledge,  in  any  deeper 
way,  this  unity  of  plan  we  seem  to  trace  ? 
■  The  objection  suggested  by  these  questions  is  a  very 
valid  and  important  one,  and  morphology  was  in  an 
unsound  state,  so  long  as  it  rested  upon  the  mere  percep- 
tion of  the  analogies  which  obtain  between  fully  formed 
parts.  The  unchecked  ingenuity  of  speculative  anato- 
mists proved  itself  fully  competent  to  spin  any  number 
of  contradictory  hypotheses  out  of  the  same  facts,  and 
endless  morphological  dreams  threatened  to  supplant 
scientific  theory. 

Happily,  however,  there  is  a  criterion  of  morpho- 
logical truth,  and  a  sure  test  of  all  homologies.  Our 
'obster  has  not  always  been  what  we  see  it ;  it  was  once 
*"  egg.  a  semifluid  mass  of  yolk,  not  so  big  as  a  pin's 


126  PROFESSOR   HUXLEY 

head,  contained  in  a  transparent  membrane,  and  exhi- 
biting not  the  least  trace  of  any  one  of  those  organs, 
whose  multiplicity  and  complexity,  in  the  adult,  are  so 
surprising.  After  a  time  a  delicate  patch  of  cellular 
membrane  appeared  upon  one  face  of  this  yolk,  and  that 
patch  was  the  foundation  of  the  whole  creature,  the  clay 
out  of  which  it  would  be  moulded.  Gradually  investing 
the  yolk,  it  became  subdivided  by  transverse  constric- 
tions into  segments,  the  forerunners  of  the  rings  of  the 
body.  Upon  the  ventral  surface  of  each  of  the  rings 
thus  sketched  out,  a  pair  of  bud-like  prominences  made 
their  appearance — the  rudiments  of  the  appendages  of 
the  ring.  At  first,  all  the  appendages  were  alike,  but,  as 
they  grew,  most  of  thejn  became  distinguished  with  a 
stem  and  two  terminal  divisions,  to  which,  in  the  middle 
part  of  the  body,  was  added  a  third  outer  division  ;  and 
it  was  only  at  a  later  period,  that  by  the  modification,  or 
abortion,  of  certain  of  these  primitive  constituents,  tlie 
limbs  acquired  their  perfect  form. 

Thus  the  study  of  development  proves  that  the  doc- 
trine of  unity  of  plan  is  not  merely  a  fancy,  that  it  is 
not  merely  one  way  of  looking  at  the  matter,  but  that  it 
is  the  expression  of  deep-seated  natural  facts.  The  legs 
and  jaws  of  the  lobster  may  not  merely  be  regarded  as 
modifications  of  a  common  type, — in  fact  and  in  nature 
•:hey  are  so, — ^the  leg  and  the  jaw  of  the  young  animal 
being,  at  first,  indistinguishable. 

These  are  wonderful  truths,  the  more  so  because  the 
roologist  finds  them  to  be  of  universal  application.  The 
investigation  of  a  polype,  of  a  snail,  of  a  fish,  of  a  horse, 
or  of  a  man,  would  have  led  us.  though  by  a  less  easy 
path,  perhaps,  to  exactly  the  same  point  Unity  of  plan 
everywhere  lies  hidden  under  the  mask  of  diversity  ol 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   ZOOLOGY. 


127 


structure — ^the  complex  is  everywhere  evolved  out  of  the 
simple.  Every  animal  has  at  first  the  form  of  an  egg, 
and  every  animal  and  every  organic  part,  in  reaching  its 
adult  state,  passes  through  conditions  common  to  other 
animals  and  other  adult  parts ;  and  this  leads  me  to 
another  point.  I  have  hitherto  spoken  as  if  the  lobster 
were  alone  in  the  world,  but,  as  I  need  hardly  remind 
vou,  there  are  myriads  of  other  animal  organisms.  Of 
these,  some,  such  as  men,  horses,  birds,  fishes,  snails, 
slugs,  oysters,  corals,  and  sponges,  are  not  in  the  least 
like  the  lobster.  But  other  animals,  though  they  may 
differ  a  good  deal  from  the  lobster,  are  yet  either  very 
like  it,  or  are  like  something  that  is  like  it.  The  cray 
fish,  the  rock  lobster,  and  the  prawn,  and  the  shrimp,  for 
example,  however  different,  are  yet  so  like  lobsters,  that 
a  child  would  group  them  as  of  the  lobster  kind,  in  con- 
tradistinction to  snails  and  slugs ;  and  these  last  again 
would  form  a  kind  by  themselves,  in  contradistinction  to 
cows,  horses,  and  sheep,  the  cattle  kind. 

But  this  spontaneous  grouping  into  "  kinds "  is  the 
first  essay  of  the  human  mind  at  classification,  or  the 
calling  by  a  common  name  of  those  things  that  are 
alike,  and  the  arranging  them  in  such  a  manner  as  best 
to  suggest  the  sum  of  their  likenesses  and  unlikenesses 
to  other  things. 

Those  kinds  which  include  no  other  subdivisions  than 
the  sexes,  or  various  breeds,  are  called,  in  technical  lan- 
guage, species.  The  English  lobster  is  a  species,  our 
dray  fish  is  another,  our  prawn  is  another.  In  othei 
countries,  however,  there  are  lobsters,  cray  fish,  and 
prawns,  very  like  ours,  and  yet  presenting  sufficient  dif- 
ferences to  deserve  distinction.  Naturalists,  therefore, 
express  this  resemblance  and  this  diversity  by  grouping 


I2«  PROFESSOR   HUXLEY 

them  as  distinct  species  of  the  same  "  genus."  But  the 
lobster  and  the  cray  fish,  though  belonging  to  distinct 
genera,  have  many  features  in  common,  and  hence  aie 
grouped  together  in  an  assemblage  which  is  called  a 
family.  More  distant  resemblances  connect  the  lobster 
with  the  prawn  and  the  crab,  which  are  expressed  by 
putting  all  these  into  the  same  order.  Again,  more 
remote,  but  still  very  definite,  resemblances  unite  the 
lobster  with  the  woodlouse,  the  king  crab,  the  water-flea, 
and  the  barnacle,  and  separate  them  from  all  other 
animals ;  whence  they  collectively  constitute  the  lai^er 
group,  or  class,  Crustacea.  But  the  Crustacea  exhibit 
many  peculiar  features  in  common  with  insects,  spiders, 
and  centipedes,  so  that  these  are  grouped  into  the  still 
larger  assemblage  or  "province"  .^r/i^tt/a/a;  and,  finally, 
the  relations  which  these  have  to  worms  and  other  lower 
animals,  are  expressed  by  combining  the  whole  vast 
aggregate  into  the  sub-kingdom  oi  Annulosa. 

If  I  had  worked  my  way  from  a  sponge  instead  of  a 
lobster,  I  should  have  found  it  associated,  by  like  tics, 
with  a  great  number  of  other  animals  into  the  sub-king- 
dom Protozoa;  if  I  had  selected  a  fresh-water  polype  or 
a  coral,  the  members  of  what  naturalists  term  the  sub- 
kingdom  Ccelettterata  would  have  grouped  themselves 
around  my  type;  had  a  snail  been  chosen,  the  inhabitants 
of  all  univalve  and  bivalve,  land  and  water  shells,  the 
lamp  shells,  the  squids,  and  the  sea-mat  would  have 
gradually  linked  themselves  on  to  it  as  members  of  the 
same  sub-kingdom  of  Mollusca;  and  finally,  starting 
from  man,  I  should  have  been  compelled  to  admit  first, 
the  ape,  the  rat,  the  horse,  the  dog,  into  the  same  class ; 
and  then  the  bird,  the  crocodile,  the  turtle,  the  frog,  and 
the  fish,  into  the  same  sub-kingdom  of  Vertebrata, 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  ZOOLOGY.         I2q 

And  if  I  had  followed  out  all  these  various  lines  of 
classification  fully,  I  should  discover  in  the  end  that 
there  was  no  animal,  either  recent  or  fossil,  which  did 
not  at  once  fall  into  one  or  other  of  these  sub-kingdoms. 
In  other  words,  every  animal  is  organized  upon  one  or 
other  of  the  five,  or  more,  plans,  whose  existence  renders 
our  classification  possible.  And  so  definitely  and  pre- 
cisely marked  is  the  structure  of  each  animal,  that,  in 
the  present  state  of  our  knowledge,  there  is  not  the  least 
evidence  to  prove  that  a  form,  in  the  slightest  degree 
transitional  between  any  two  of  the  groups  Vertebrata, 
Annulosa,  Molhisca,  and  CcBlentcrata,  either  exists,  or 
has  existed,  during  that  period  of  the  earth's  history 
which  is  recorded  by  the  geologist.  Nevertheless,  you 
must  not  for  a  moment  suppose,  because  no  such 
transitional  forms  are  known,  that  the  members  of 
the  sub-kingdoms  are  disconnected  from,  or  indepen- 
dent of,  one  another.  On  the  contrary,  in  their  earliest 
condition  they  are  all  alike,  and  the  primordial  germs 
of  a  man,  a  dog,  a  bird,  a  fish,  a  beetle,  a  snail,  and  a 
polype  are,  in  no  essential  structural  respects,  dis- 
tinguishable. 

In  this  broad  sense,  it  may  with  truth  be  said,  that 
all  living  animals,  and  all  those  dead  creations  which 
geology  reveals,  are  bound  together  by  an  all-pervading 
unity  of  organization,  of  the  same  character,  though  not 
equal  in  degree,  to  that  which  enables  us  to  discern  one 
and  the  same  plan  amidst  the  twenty  different  segments 
of  a  lobster's  body.  Truly  it  has  been  said,  that  to  a 
clear  eye  the  smallest  fact  is  a  window  through  which 
the  Infinite  may  be  seen. 

Turning  from  these  purely  morphological  considera- 
tions, let  us  now  examine  into  the  manner  in  which  tlic 


130  PROFKSSOK    HUXT.EV 

attentive  study  of  the  lobster  impels  us  into  other  lines 
of  research. 

Lobsters  are  found  in  all  the  European  seas ;  but  on 
the  opposite  shores  of  the  Atlantic  and  in  the  seas  of 
the  southern  hemisphere  they  do  not  exist.  They  arc, 
however,  represented  in  these  regions  by  very  closely 
allied,  but  distinct  forms — the  Homarus  Atnericanus  and 
the  Honiants  Capensis :  so  that  we  may  say  that  the 
European  has  one  species  of  Homarus ;  the  American, 
another;  the  African,  another;  and  thus  the  rerr.arkahle 
facts  of  geographical  distribution  begin  to  dawn  upon  us. 

Again,  if  we  examine  the  contents  of  the  earth's  crust, 
we  shall  find  in  the  later  of  those  deposits,  which  have 
served  as  the  great  burying  grounds  of  past  ages,  num- 
berless lobster-like  animals,  but  none  so  similar  to  our 
living  lobster  as  to  make  zoologists  sure  that  they  be- 
longed even  to  the  same  genus.  If  we  go  still  further 
back  in  time,  we  discover,  in  the  oldest  rocks  of  all,  the 
remains  of  animals,  constructed  on  the  same  general 
plan  as  the  lobster,  and  belonging  to  the  same  great 
group  of  Crtistacea ;  but  for  the  most  part  totally  dif- 
ferent from  the  lobster,  and  indeed  from  any  other  living 
form  of  crustacean  ;  and  thus  we  gain  a  notion  of  that 
successive  change  of  the  animal  population  of  the  globe, 
in  past  ages,  which  is  the  most  striking  fact  revealed  by 
geology. 

Consider,  now,  where  our  inquiries  have  led  us.  We 
studied  our  type  morphologically,  when  we  determined 
its  anatomy  and  its  development,  and  when  comparing 
it,  in  these  respects,  with  other  animals,  we  made  out  its 
place  in  a  system  of  classification.  If  we  were  to  examine 
every  animal  in  a  similar  manner,  we  should  establish  a 
complete  body  of  zoological  morphology. 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   ZOOLOGY. 


131 


Again,  we  investigated  the  distribution  of  our  type  in 
space  and  in  time,  and,  if  the  like  had  been  done  with 
every  animal,  the  sciences  of  geographical  and  geological 
distribution  would  have  attained  their  limit. 

But  you  will  observe  one  remarkable  circumstance, 
that,  up  to  this  point,  the  question  of  the  life  of  these 
organisms  has  not  come  under  consideration.  Morpho- 
logy and  distribution  might  be  studied  almost  as  well,  if 
animals  and  plants  were  a  peculiar  kind  of  crystals,  and 
possessed  none  of  those  functions  which  distinguish 
living  beings  so  remarkably.  But  the  facts  of  morpho- 
logy and  distribution  have  to  be  accounted  for,  and 
the  science,  whose  aim  it  is  to  account  for  them,  is 
physiology. 

Let  us  return  to  our  lobster  once  more.  If  we  watched 
the  creature  in  its  native  element,  we  should  see  it  climb- 
ing actively  the  submerged  rocks,  among  which  it  delights 
to  live,  by  means  of  its  strong  legs ;  or  swimming  by 
powerful  strokes  of  its  great  tail,  the  appendages  of 
whose  sixth  joint  are  spread  out  into  a  broad  fan-like 
propeller:  seize  it,  and  it  will  show  you  that  its  great 
claws  are  no  mean  weapons  of  otfence ;  suspend  a  piece 
of  carrion  among  its  haunts,  and  it  will  greedily  devour 
it,  tearing  and  crushing  the  flesh  by  means  of  its  multi- 
tudinous jaws. 

Suppose  that  we  had  known  nothing  of  the  lobster 
but  as  an  inert  mass,  an  organic  crystal,  if  I  may  use  the 
phrase,  and  that  we  could  suddenly  see  it  exerting  all 
these  powers,  what  wonderful  new  ideas  and  new  ques- 
tions would  arise  in  our  minds !  The  great  new  question 
would  be,  "  How  does  all  this  take  place  ? "  the  chief  new 
idea  would  be,  the  idea  of  adaptation  to  purpose, — the 
notion,  that  the  constituents  of  animal  bodies  are  not 


132  PROFESSOR   HUXLEY 

mere  unconnected  parts,  but  organs  working  together  to 
an  end.  Let  us  consider  the  tail  of  the  lobster  again 
from  this  point  of  view.  Morphology  has  taught  us 
that  it  is  a  series  of  segments  composed  of  homologous 
parts,  which  undergo  various  modifications — beneath 
dud  through  which  a  common  plan  of  formation  is  dis- 
cernible. But  if  I  look  at  the  same  part  physiologically, 
I  see  that  it  is  a  most  beautifully  constructed  oi^an  of 
locomotion,  by  means  of  which  the  animal  can  swiftly 
propel  itself  either  backwards  or  forwards. 

But  how  is  this  remarkable  propulsive  machine  made 
to  perform  its  functions }  If  I  were  suddenly  to  kill  one 
of  these  animals  and  to  take  out  all  the  soft  parts,  I 
should  find  the  shell  to  be  perfectly  inert,  to  have  no 
more  power  of  moving  itself  than  is  possessed  by  the 
machinery  of  a  mill,  when  disconnected  from  its  steam- 
engine  or  water-wheel.  But  if  I  were  to  open  it,  and 
take  out  the  viscera  only,  leaving  the  white  flesh,  I 
should  perceive  that  the  lobster  could  bend  and  extend 
its  tail  as  well  as  before.  If  I  were  to  cut  off  the  tail,  I 
.should  cease  to  find  any  spontaneous  motion  in  it ;  but 
on  pinching  any  portion  of  the  flesh,  I  should  observe 
that  it  underwent  a  very  curious  change — each  fibre  be- 
coming shorter  and  thicker.  By  this  act  of  contraction, 
as  it  is  termed,  the  parts  to  which  the  ends  of  the  fibre 
are  attached  are,  of  course,  approximated  ;  and  accord- 
ing to  the  relations  of  their  points  of  attachment  to  the 
centres  of  motion  of  the  different  rings,  the  bending  or 
the  extension  of  the  tail  results.  Close  observation  of 
the  newly  opened  lobster  would  soon  show  that  all  its 
movements  are  due  to  the  same  cause — the  shortening 
and  thickening  of  these  fleshy  fibres,  which  are  techni- 
cally called  muscles. 


ON   THE  STUDY  OF  ZOOLOGY. 


133 


Here,  then,  is  a  capital  fact.  The  movements  of  the 
lobster  are  due  to  muscular  contractility.  But  why  does 
a  muscle  contract  at  one  time  and  not  at  another  ?  Why 
does  one  whole  group  of  muscles  contract  when  the 
lobster  wishes  to  extend  his  tail,  and  another  group, 
when  he  desires  to  bend  it .-'  What  is  it  originates, 
directs,  and  controls  the  motive  power  ? 

Experiment,  the  great  instrument  for  the  ascertain- 
ment of  truth  in  physical  science,  answers  this  question 
for  us.  In  the  head  of  the  lobster  there  lies  a  small 
mass  of  that  peculiar  tissue  which  is  known  as  nervous 
substance.  Cords  of  similar  matter  connect  this  brain 
of  the  lobster,  directly  or  indirectly,  with  the  muscles. 
Now,  if  these  communicating  cords  are  cut,  the  brain 
remaining  entire,  the  power  of  exerting  what  we  call 
voluntary  motion  in  the  parts  below  the  section  is  de- 
stroyed ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  if,  the  cords  remaining 
entire,  the  brain  mass  be  destroyed,  the  same  voluntary 
mobility  is  equally  lost.  Whence  the  inevitable  con- 
clusion i.s  that  the  power  of  originating  these  motions 
resides  in  the  brain,  and  is  propagated  along  the  nervous 
cords. 

In  the  higher  animals  the  phenomena  which  attend 
this  transmission  have  been  investigated,  and  the  exer- 
tion of  the  peculiar  energy  which  resides  in  the  nerves 
has  been  found  to  be  accompanied  by  a  disturbance  of 
the  electrical  state  of  their  molecules. 

If  we  could  exactly  estimate  the  signification  of  this 
disturbance ;  if  we  could  obtain  the  value  of  a  given 
exertion  of  nerve  force  by  determining  the  quantity  of 
electricity,  or  of  heat,  of  which  it  is  the  equivalent ;  il 
we  could  ascertain  upon  what  arrangement,  or  other 
condition  of  the  molecules  of  matter,  the  manifestation  of 


134  PROFESSOR  HUXLEY 

the  nervous  and  muscular  energies  depends,  (and  doubt- 
less science  will  some  day  or  other  ascertain  these 
points,)  physiologists  would  have  attained  their  ultimate 
goal  in  this  direction ;  they  would  have  determined  the 
relation  of  the  motive  force  of  animals  to  the  other 
forms  of  force  found  in  nature  ;  and  if  the  same  process 
had  been  successfully  performed  for  all  the  operations 
which  are  carried  on,  in,  and  by  the  animal  frame, 
physiology  would  be  perfect,  and  the  facts  of  morphology 
and  distribution  would  be  deducible  from  the  laws  which 
physiologists  had  established,  combined  with  those  deter- 
mining the  condition  of  the  surrounding  universe. 

There  is  not  a  fragment  of  the  organism  of  this  humble 
animal,  whose  study  would  not  lead  us  into  regions  ot 
thought  as  large  as  those  which  I  have  briefly  opened 
up  to  you ;  but  what  I  have  been  saying,  I  trust,  has  not 
only  enabled  you  to  form  a  conception  of  the  scope  and 
purport  of  zoology,  but  has  given  you  an  imperfect 
example  of  the  manner  in  which,  in  my  opinion,  that 
science,  or  indeed  any  physical  science,  may  be  best 
taught.  The  great  matter  is,  to  make  teaching  real  and 
practical,  by  fixing  the  attention  of  the  student  on  par-^ 
ticular  facts ;  but  at  the  same  time  it  should  be  rendered 
broad  and  comprehensive,  by  constant  reference  to  the 
generalizations  of  which  all  particular  facts  are  illustra- 
tions. The  lobster  has  served  as  a  type  of  the  whole 
animal  kingdom,  and  its  anatomy  and  physiology  have 
illustrated  for  us  some  of  the  greatest  truths  of  biology. 
The  student  who  has  once  seen  for  himself  the  facts 
whicli  I  have  described,  has  had  their  relations  explained 
to  him,  and  has  clearly  comprehended  them,  has  so  far 
a  knowledge  of  zoology,  which  is  real  and  genuine,  how- 
ever limited  it  may  be,  and  which  is  worth  more  than  al) 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  ZOOLOGY. 


135 


thx.  mere  reading  knowledge  of  the  science  he  could  ever 
acquire.  His  zoological  information  is,  so  far,  knowledge 
and  not  mere  hearsay. 

Axid  if  it  were  my  business  to  fit  you  for  the  certificate 
in  zoological  science  granted  by  this  department,  I 
should  pursue  a  course  precisely  similar  in  principle 
to  that  which  I  have  taken  to-night.  I  should  select  a 
fresh-water  sponge,  a  fresh-water  polype  or  a  Cyancsa, 
a  fresh-water  mussel,  a  lobster,  a  fowl,  as  types  of  the 
five  primary  divisions  of  the  animal  kingdom.  I  should 
explain  their  structure  very  fully,  and  show  how  each 
illustrated  the  great  principles  of  zoology.  Having  gone 
very  carefully  and  fully  over  this  ground,  I  should  feel 
that  you  had  a  safe  foundation,  and  I  should  then  take 
you  in  the  same  way,  but  less  minutely,  over  similarly 
selected  illustrative  types  of  the  classes ;  and  then  I 
should  direct  your  attention  to  the  special  forms  enume- 
rated under  the  head  of  types,  in  this  syllabus,  and  to 
the  other  facts  there  mentioned. 

That  would,  speaking  generally,  be  my  plan.  But  I 
haVe  undertaken  to  explain  to  you  the  best  mode  of 
acquiring  and  communicating  a  knowledge  of  zoology, 
and  you  may  therefore  fairly  ask  me  for  a  more  detailed 
and  precise  account  of  the  manner  in  which  I  should 
[)ropose  to  furnish  you  with  the  information  I  refer  to. 

My  own  impression  is,  that  the  best  model  for  all 
kmds  of  training  in  physical  science  is  that  afforded  by 
the  method  of  teaching  anatomy,  in  use  in  the  medical 
schools.  This  method  consists  of  three  elements — lec- 
tures, demonstrations,  and  examinations. 

The  object  of  lectures  is,  in  the  first  place,  to  awaken 
the  attention  and  excite  the  enthusiasm  of  the  student ; 
imd  this,  I  am  sure,  may  be  effected  to  a  far  greater 
10 


136  PROFESSOR   HUXLEY 

extent*  by  the  oral  discourse  and  by  the  personal 
influence  of  a  respected  teacher,  than  in  any  other 
way.  Secondly,  lectures  have  the  double  use  of  guiding 
the  student  to  the  '^alient  points  of  a  subject,  and  at 
the  same  time  forcing  him  to  attend  to  the  whole  of  it, 
and  not  merely  to  that  part  which  takes  his  fancy.  And 
lastly,  lectures  afford  the  student  the  opportunity  of 
seeking  explanations  of  those  difficulties  which  will,  and 
indeed  ought  to,  arise  in  the  course  of  his  studies. 

But  for  a  student  to  derive  the  utmost  possible  value 
from  lectures,  several  precautions  are  needful. 

I  have  a  strong  impression  that  the  better  a  discourse 
is,  as  an  oration,  the  worse  it  is  as  a  lecture.  The  flow 
of  the  discourse  carries  you  on  without  proper  atttention 
to  its  sense ;  you  drop  a  word  or  a  phrase,  you  lose  the 
exact  meaning  for  a  moment,  and  while  you  strive  to 
recover  yourself,  the  speaker  has  passed  on  to  something 
else. 

The  practice  I  have  adopted  of  late  years,  in  lecturing 
to  students,  is  to  condense  the  substance  of  the  hour's 
discourse  into  a  few  dry  propositions,  which  are  read 
slowly  and  taken  down  from  dictation  ;  the  reading  01 
each  being  followed  by  a  free  commentary,  expanding 
and  illustrating  the  proposition,  explaining  terms,  and 
removing  any  difficulties  that  may  be  attackable  in  that 
way,  by  diagrams  made  roughly,  and  seen  to  grow  under 
tlie  lecturer's  hand.  In  this  manner  you,  at  any  rate, 
insure  the  co-op>eration  of  the  student  to  a  certain  extent. 
He  cannot  leave  the  lecture-room  entirely  empty  if  the 
taking  of  notes  is  enforced  ;  and  a  student  must  be 
prcternaturally  dull  and  mechanical,  if  he  can  take 
notes  and  hear  them  properly  explained,  and  yet  learn 
nothing. 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF    ZOOLOGY.  1 37 

What  books  shall  I  read  ?  is  a  question  constantly 
put  by  the  student  to  the  teacher.  My  reply  usually  is, 
"  None  :  write  your  notes  out  carefully  and  fully  ;  strive 
to  understand  them  thoroughly  ;  come  to  me  for  the 
explanation  of  anything  you  cannot  understand ;  and 
I  would  rather  you  did  not  distract  your  mind  by 
reading."  1 A  properly  composed  course  of  lectures 
ought  to  contain  fully  as  much  matter  as  a  student 
can  assimilate  in  the  time  occupied  by  its  delivery  ; 
and  the  teacher  should  always  recollect  that  his  business 
is  to  feed,  and  not  to  cram,  the  intellect.  Indeed,  I 
believe  that  a  student  who  gains  from  a  course  of  lec- 
tures the  simple  habit  of  concentrating  his  attention 
upon  a  definitely  limited  series  of  facts,  until  they  are 
thoroughly  mastered,  has  made  a  step  of  immeasurable 
importance. 

But,  however  good  lectures  may  be,  and  however 
extensive  the  course  of  reading  by  which  they  are 
followed  up,  they  are  but  accessories  to  the  great  in- 
strument of  scientific  teaching — demonstration.  If  I 
insist  unweariedly,  nay  fanatically,  upon  the  importance 
of  physical  science  as  an  educational  agent,  it  is  because 
the  study  of  any  branch  of  science,  if  properly  conducted, 
appears  to  me  to  fill  up  a  void  left  by  all  other  means 
of  education.  I  have  the  greatest  respect  and  love  for 
literature ;  nothing  would  grieve  me  more  than  to  see 
literary  training  other  than  a  very  prominent  branch  of 
education :  indeed,  I  wish  that  real  literary  discipline 
were  far  more  attended  to  than  it  is ;  but  I  cannot  shut 
my  eyes  to  the  fact,  that  there  is  a  vast  difference 
between  men  who  have  had  a  purely  literary,  and  those 
who  have  had  a  sound  scientific,  training. 

Seeking  for  the  cause  of  this  difference,  I  imagine  I 


IjS  PROFESSOR  HUXLEY 

can  find  it  in  the  fact,  that,  in  the  world  of  letters; 
learning  and  knowledge  are  one,  and  books  are  the 
source  of  both ;  whereas  in  science,  as  in  life,  learning 
and  knowledge  are  distinct,  and  the  study  of  things, 
and  not  of  books,  is  the  source  of  the  latter. 

All  that  literature  has  to  bestow  may  be  obtained 
by  reading  and  by  practical  exercise  in  writing  and  in 
speaking;  but  I  do  not  exaggerate  when  I  say,  that 
none  of  the  best  gifts  of  science  are  to  be  won  by  these 
means.  On  the  contrary,  the  great  benefit  which  a 
scientific  education  bestows,  whether  as  training  or  as 
knowledge,  is  dependent  upon  the  extent  to  which  the 
mind  of  the  student  is  brought  into  immediate  contact 
with  facts — upon  the  degree  to  which  he  learns  the 
habit  of  appealing  directly  to  Nature,  and  of  acquiring 
through  his  senses  concrete  images  of  those  properties 
of  things,  which  are,  and  always  will  be,  but  approxi- 
matively  expressed  in  human  language.  Our  way  of 
looking  at  Nature,  and  of  speaking  about  her,  varies 
from  year  to  year  ;  but  a  fact  once  seen,  a  relation  of 
cause  and  effect,  once  demonstratively  apprehended,  are 
possessions  which  neither  change  nor  pass  away,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  form  fixed  centres,  about  which  other 
truths  aggregate  by  natural  affinity. 

Therefore,  the  great  business  of  the  scientific  teacher 
is,  to  imprint  the  fundamental,  irrefragable  facts  of  his 
science,  not  only  by  words  upon  the  mind,  but  by 
sensible  impressions  upon  the  eye,  and  ear,  and  touch 
of  the  student,  in  so  complete  a  manner,  that  every 
term  used,  or  law  enunciated,  should  afterwards  call  up 
vivid  images  of  the  particular  structural,  or  other,  facts 
which  furnished  the  demonstration  of  the  law,  or  the 
illustration  of  the  term. 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   ZOOLOGY. 


139 


Now  this  important  operation  can  only  be  achieved 
by  constant  demonstration,  which  may  take  place  to  a 
certain  imperfect  extent  during  a  lecture,  but  which 
ought  also  to  be  carried  on  independently,  and  which 
should  be  addressed  to  each  individual  student,  the 
teacher  endeavouring,  not  so  much  to  show  a  thing  to 
the  learner,  as  to  make  him  see  it  for  himself. 

I  am  well  aware  that  there  are  great  practical  diffi- 
culties in  the  way  of  effectual  zoological  demonstrations. 
The  dissection  of  animals  is  not  altogether  pleasant, 
and  requires  much  time ;  nor  is  it  easy  to  secure  an 
adequate  supply  of  the  needful  specimens.  The  botanist 
has  here  a  great  advantage ;  his  specimens  are  easily 
obtained,  are  clean  and  wholesome,  and  can  be  dissected 
in  a  private  house  as  well  as  anywhere  else  ;  and  hence, 
I  believe,  the  fact,  that  botany  is  so  much  more  readily 
and  better  taught  than  its  sister  science.  But,  be  it 
difficult  or  be  it  easy,  if  zoological  science  is  to  be 
properly  studied,  demonstration,  and,  consequently, 
dissection,  must  be  had.  Without  it,  no  man  can  have 
a  really  sound  knowledge  of  animal  organization. 

A  good  deal  may  be  done,  however,  without  actual 
dissection  on  the  student's  part,  by  demonstration  upon 
specimens  and  preparations ;  and  in  all  probability  it 
would  not  be  very  difficult,  were  the  demand  sufficient, 
to  organize  collections  of  such  objects,  sufficient  for  all 
the  purposes  of  elementary  teaching,  at  a  comparatively 
cheap  rate.  Even  without  these,  much  might  be  effected, 
if  the  zoological  collections,  which  are  open  to  the 
public,  were  arranged  according  to  what  has  been  termed 
the  "  typical  principle  ; "  that  is  to  say,  if  the  specimens 
exposed  to  public  view  were  so  selected,  that  the  public 
could  learn  something  from  them,  instead  of  being,  as 


140  'PROFESSOR  HUXLEY 

^t  present,  merely  confused  by  their  multiplicity.  For 
example,  the  grand  ornithological  gallery  at  the  British 
Museum  contains  between  two  and  three  thousand 
species  of  birds,  and  sometimes  five  or  six  specimens 
of  a  species.  They  are  very  pretty  to  look  at,  and  some 
of  the  cases  are,  indeed,  splendid  ;  but  I  will  undertake 
to  say,  that  no  man  but  a  professed  ornithologist  has 
ever  gathered  much  information  from  the  collection. 
Certainly,  no  one  of  the  tens  of  thousands  of  the  general 
public  who  have  walked  through  that  gallery  ever  knew 
more  about  the  essential  peculiarities  of  birds  when  he 
left  the  gallery,  than  when  he  entered  it.  But  if,  some- 
where in  tiiat  vast  hall,  there  were  a  few  preparations, 
exemplifying  the  leading  structural  peculiarities  and  the 
mode  of  development  of  a  common  fowl ;  if  the  types 
of  the  genera,  the  leading  modifications  in  the  skeleton, 
in  the  plumage  at  various  ages,  in  the  mode  of  nidifica- 
tion,  and  the  like,  among  birds,  were  displayed  ;  and  if 
the  other  specimens  were  put  away  in  a  place  where  the 
men  of  science,  to  whom  they  are  alone  useful,  could 
have  free  access  to  them,  I  can  conceive  that  this  col- 
lection might  become  a  great  instrument  of  scientific 
education.  , 

The  last  implement  of  the  teacher  to  which  I  have 
adverted  is  examination — a  means  of  education  now  so 
thoroughly  understood  that  I  need  hardly  enlarge  upon 
it  I  hold  that  both  written  and  oral  examinations  aie 
indispensable,  and,  by  requiring  the  description  of  speci- 
mens, they  may  be  made  to  supplement  demonstration. 

Such  is  the  fullest  reply  the  time  at  my  disposal  will 
allow  me  to  give  to  the  question — how  may  a  knowledge 
of  zoology  be  best  acquired  and  communicated  ? 

But  there  is  a  previous  question  which  may  be  moved, 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  ZOOLOGY. 


141 


and  which,  in  fact,  I  know  many  are  inclined  to  move. 
It  is  the  question,  why  should  training  masters  be 
encouraged  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  this,  or  any  other 
branch  of  physical  science  ?  What  is  the  use,  it  is  said, 
of  attempting  to  make  physical  science  a  branch  of 
primary  education  ?  Is  it  not  probable  that  teachers, 
in  pursuing  such  studies,  will  be  led  astray  from  the 
acquirement  of  more  important  but  less  attractive  know- 
ledge ?  And,  even  if  they  can  learn  something  of  science 
without  prejudice  to  their  usefulness,  what  is  the  good 
of  their  attempting  to  instil  that  knowledge  into  boys 
whose  real  business  is  the  acquisition  of  reading,  writing, 
and  arithmetic  ? 

These  questions  are,  and  will  be,  very  commonly 
asked,  for  they  arise  from  that  profound  ignorance  of 
the  value  and  true  position  of  physical  science,  which 
infests  the  minds  of  the  most  highly  educated  and 
intelligent  classes  of  the  community.  But  if  I  did  not 
feel  well  assured  that  they  are  capable  of  being  easily 
and  satisfactorily  answered  ;  that  they  have  been  an- 
swered over  and  over  again ;  and  that  the  time  will 
come  when  men  of  liberal  education  will  blush  to  raise 
such  questions, — I  should  be  ashamed  of  my  position 
here  to-night.  Without  doubt,  it  is  your  great  and  very 
important  function  to  carry  out  elementary  education ; 
without  question,  anything  that  should  interfere  with 
the  faithful  fulfilment  of  that  duty  on  your  part  would 
be  a  great  evil ;  and  if  I  thought  that  your  acquirement 
qf  the  elements  of  physical  science,  and  your  communi- 
cation of  those  elements  to  your  pupils,  involved  any 
sort  of  interference  with  your  proper  duties,  I  should 
be  the  first  person  to  protest  against  your  being  en- 
couraged to  do  anything  of  the  kind. 


142  PROFESSOR  HUXLEY 

But  is  it  true  that  the  acquisition  of  such  a  know- 
ledge of  science  as  is  proposed,  and  the  communica- 
tion of  that  knowledge,  are  calculated  to  weaken  your 
usefulness  ?  Or  may  I  not  rather  ask,  is  it  possible  for 
you  to  discharge  your  functions  properly  without  these 
aids  ? 

What  is  the  purpose  of  primary  intellectual  educa- 
tion ?  I  apprehend  that  its  first  object  is  to  train  the 
young  in  the  use  of  those  tools  wherewith  men  extract 
knowledge  from  the  ever-shifting  succession  of  pheno- 
mena which  pass  before  their  eyes  ;  and  that  its  second 
object  is  to  inform  them  of  the  fundamental  laws  which 
have  been  found  by  experience  to  govern  the  course 
of  things,  so  that  they  may  not  be  turned  out  into  the 
world  naked,  defenceless,  and  a  prey  to  the  events  they 
might  control. 

A  boy  is  taught  to  read  his  own  and  other  languages, 
in  order  that  he  may  have  access  to  infinitely  wider 
stores  of  knowledge  than  could  ever  be  opened  to  him 
by  oral  intercourse  with  his  fellow  men  ;  he  learns  to 
write,  that  his  means  of  communication  with  the  rest  of 
mankind  may  be  indefinitely  enlarged,  and  that  he  may 
record  and  store  up  the  knowledge  he  acquires.  He 
is  taught  elementarj'  mathematics,  that  he  may  under- 
stand all  those  relations  of  number  and  form,  upon 
which  the  transactions  of  men,  associated  in  complicated 
societies,  are  built,  and  that  he  may  have  some  practice 
in  deductive  reasoning. 

All  these  operations  of  reading,  writing,  and  ciphering, 
arc  intellectual  tools,  whose  use  should,  before  all  things, 
be  learned,  and  learned  thoroughly  ;  so  that  the  youth 
may  be  enabled  to  make  his  life  that  which  it  ought 
to  be,  a  continual  prepress  in  learning  and  in  wisdom. 


ON   THE  STUDY   OF   ZOOLOGY.  r43 

But,  in  addition,  primary  education  endeavours  to  fit 
a  boy  out  with  a  certain  equipment  of  positive  know- 
ledge. He  is  taught  the  great  laws  of  morality;  the 
religion  of  his  sect ;  so  much  history  and  geography  as 
will  tell  him  where  the  great  countries  of  the  world  are, 
what  they  are,  and  how  they  have  become  what  they  are. 

Without  doubt  all  these  are  most  fitting  and  ex- 
cellent things  to  teach  a  boy  ;  I  should  be  very  sorry 
to  omit  any  of  them  from  any  scheme  of  primary  intel- 
lectual education.  The  system  is  excellent,  so  far  as 
it  goes. 

But  if  I  regard  it  closely,  a  curious  reflection  arises. 
I  suppose  that,  fifteen  hundred  years  ago,  the  child  of 
any  well-to-do  Roman  citizen  was  taught  just  these 
same  things  ;  reading  and  writing  in  his  own,  and,  per- 
haps, the  Greek  tongue ;  the  elements  of  mathematics  ; 
and  the  religion,  morality,  history,  and  geography  cur- 
rent in  his  time.  Furthermore,  I  do  not  think  I  err  in 
affirming,  that,  if  such  a  Christian  Roman  boy,  who  had 
finished  his  education,  could  be  transplanted  into  one 
of  our  public  schools,  and  pass  through  its  course  of 
instruction,  he  would  not  meet  with  a  single  unfamiliar 
line  of  thought ;  amidst  all  the  new  facts  he  would 
have  to  learn,  not  one  would  suggest  a  different  mode 
of  regarding  the  universe  from  that  current  in  his  own 
time. 

And  yet  surely  there  is  some  great  difference  between 
tlie  civilization  of  the  fourth  century  and  that  of  the 
nineteenth,  and  still  more  between  the  intellectual  habits 
and  tone  of  thought  of  that  day  and  of  this  ? 

And  what  has  made  this  difference  ?  I  answer  fear- 
lessly,— The  prodigious  development  of  physical  science 
within  the  last  two  centuries. 


144  PROFESSOR  HUXLEY 

Modem  civilization  rests  upon  physical  science ;  take 
away  her  gifts  to  our  own  country,  and  our  position 
among  the  leading  nations  of  the  world  is  gone  to- 
morrow ;  for  it  is  physical  science  only,  that  makes 
intelligence  and  moral  energy  stronger  than  bruti? 
force. 

The  whole  of  modern  thought  is  steeped  in  science ;  it 
lias  made  its  way  into  the  works  of  our  best  poets,  and 
even  the  mere  man  of  letters,  who  affects  to  ignore  and 
despise  science,  is  unconsciously  impregnated  with  her 
spirit,  and  indebted  for  his  best  products  to  her  methods. 
I  believe  that  the  greatest  intellectual  revolution  man- 
kind has  yet  seen  is  now  slowly  taking  place  by  her 
agency.  She  is  teaching  the  world  that  the  ultimate 
court  of  appeal  is  observation  and  experiment,  and  not 
authority ;  she  is  teaching  it  to  estimate  the  value  of 
evidence  ;  she  is  creating  a  firm  and  living  faith  in  the 
existence  of  immutable  moral  and  physical  laws,  perfect 
obedience  to  which  is  the  highest  possible  aim  of  an 
intelligent  being. 

But  of  all  this  your  old  stereotyped  system  of  edu- 
cation takes  no  note.  Physical  science,  its  methods,  its 
problems,  and  its  difficulties,  will  meet  the  poorest  boy 
at  every  turn,  and  yet  we  educate  him  in  such  a  manner 
that  he  shall  enter  the  world  as  ignorant  of  the  existence 
of  the  methods  and  facts  of  science  as  the  day  he  was 
bom.  The  modern  world  is  full  of  artillery ;  and  we 
tum  out  our  children  to  do  battle  in  it,  equipped  with 
the  shield  and  sword  of  an  ancient  gladiator. 

Posterity  will  cry  shame  on  us  if  we  do  not  remedy 
this  deplorable  state  of  things.  Nay,  if  we  live  twenty 
years  longer,  our  own  consciences  will  cry  shame  on  us. 

It  is  my  firm  conviction  that  the  only  way  to  remedy 


ON   THE  STUDY   OF   ZOOLOGY.  145 

it  is,  to  make  the  elements  of  physical  science  an  integral 
part  of  primary  education.  I  have  endeavoured  to  show 
you  how  that  may  be  done  for  that  branch  of  science 
which  it  is  my  business  to  pursue ;  and  I  can  but  add, 
that  I  should  look  upon  the  day  when  every  school- 
master throughout  this  land  was  a  centre  of  genuine, 
however  rudimentary,  scientific  knowledge,  as  an  epoch 
in  the  history  of  the  country. 

But  let  me  entreat  you  to  remember  my  last  words. 
Addressing  myself  to  you,  as  teachers,  I  would  say,  mere 
book  learning  in  physical  science  is  a  sham  and  a  de- 
lusion— what  you  teach,  unless  you  wish  to  be  impostors, 
that  you  must  first  know ;  and  real  knowledge  in  science 
means  personal  acquaintance  with  the  facts,  be  they  few 
or  many. 

Note. — It  has  been  suggested  to  me  that  these  words  may  be  taken  to 
imply  a  discouragement  on  my  part  of  any  sort  of  scientific  mstruction 
which  does  not  give  an  acquaintance  with  the  facts  at  first  hand.  But  this 
is  not  my  meaning.  The  ideal  of  scientific  teaching  is,  no  doubt,  a  system 
by  which  the  scholar  sees  every  fact  for  himself,  and  the  teacher  supplies 
only  tVie  explanations.  Circumstances,  however,  do  not  often  allow  of  the 
attainment  of  that  ideal,  and  we  must  put  up  with  the  next  best  system — ■ 
one  in  which  the  scholar  takes  a  good  deal  on  trust  from  a  teacher,  who, 
knowing  the  facts  by  his  own  knowledge,  can  describe  them  with  so  much 
vividness  as  to  enable  his  audience  to  form  competent  ideas  concerning 
them.  The  system  which  I  repudiate  is  that  which  allows  teachers  who 
have  not  coine  into  direct  contact  with  the  leading  facts  of  a  science  to  pass 
their  second-hand  information  on.  The  scientific  virus,  like  vaccine  lymph, 
if  passed  through  too  long  a  succession  of  organisms,  will  lose  all  its  eifect 
in  protectmg  the  young  against  the  intellectual  epidemics  to  which  they  are 
txiiOKcdL 


^ 


ON  THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  THE  STUDY 
OF  PHYSIOLOGY. 


A  LECTURE  DELIVERED  AT  THE  ROYAL  INSTITUTION 
OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


BY 

JAMES  PAGET,  M.D.,  F.R.S. 


^ 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  PHYSIOLOGY. 


fT  is  my  office  to  submit  to  you  the  importance  of  the 
study  of  Physiology,  as  a  branch  of  education  for  all 
classes ;  to  state  the  grounds  on  which  it  seems  desira- 
ble that  every  one  should  learn  somewhat  of  the  struc- 
ture of  the  human  body,  and  of  the  processes  that  are 
carried  on  within  it,  and  the  laws  according  to  which 
they  are  governed. 

The  advantages  to  be  expected  from  the  general 
teaching  of  physiology  may  be  grouped  in  two  classes : 
the  first,  including  such  as  would  tend  to  the  promotion 
of  the  science ;  the  second,  such  as  would  belong  to  the 
students. 

By  a  wider  diffusion  of  the  knowledge  of  physiology 
its  progress  would  be  accelerated,  as  that  of  any  other 
science  would,  by  the  increased  number  of  the  compe- 
tent observers  of  its  facts. 

But  a  larger  advantage,  and  one  which,  I  think,  phy- 
siology needs  more  than  any  other  science  does,  would 
arise  in  this, — that  the  communication  would  be  easier, 
which  is  now  so  difficult,  between  those  who  are  en- 
gaged in  it,  and  those  who  specially  devote  themselves 
to  other  sciences  that  niight  assist  it.  Almost  every 
process  in  the  living  body  involves  the  exercise  of 
mechanical  and  chemical — perhaps,  also,  of  electrical — 


150  DR.   PAGET 

forces,  whose  effects  are  mingled  with  tliose  of  the  more 
proper  vital  force  ;  and  although  this  special  force  may 
modify,  and  in  some  sort  veil,  the  effects  of  the  others, 
yet  must  their  influence  be  reckoned  and  allowed  for 
in  nearly  every  case  we  have  to  study.     Therefore,  the 
complete   solution   of  any   new  physiological   problem 
must  require  such  a  master  of  all  these  sciences  of  dead 
and  living  matter  as  cannot  now,  I  believe,  be  found,  or 
else  it  must  have  the  co-operation  of  many  workers,  each 
skilled  in  some  single  science,  and  able  to  communicate 
with  all  the  rest.     Such  co-operation  is,  through   the 
present  narrowness  of  teaching,  almost  impossible.   The 
mere  chemist,  or  mechanical,  or  electrical  philosopher, 
and  the  mere  physiologist  (one,  I  mean,  who  studies 
it,  chiefly,  by  anatomy  or  by  direct  experiment),  can 
scarcely  so  much  as  understand  each  other's  language  : 
they  work  apart  at  the  same  subject  ;  and  sometimes 
even  confuse  each  other,  by  showing  the  same  facts  in 
different  lights,  and  explained  in  different  and  mutually 
unintelligible  terms.     I  know  well  that  it  requires  nearly 
all  the  power  of  a  strong  mind  so  to  master  any  of 
the  physical  sciences,   as  to  be  able  to  investigate  its 
applications  in  the  living  body ;  and  that,  therefore,  few 
could  hope  to  be  at  once  excellent  in  physiology,  and  in 
any  science  of  dead  matter ;  but  the  cooperation  that 
I  speak  of  would  not  need  more  than  that  the  skilled 
workman  in  each  science  should  understand   the   lan- 
guage, and  the  chief  principles,  and  modes  of  working, 
of  the   rest     I  am  sure  that   it    is,  in  great  measure, 
through  the  want  of  help,  such  as  it  might  hence  derive, 
that  the  onward  steps  of  physiology  are  so  slow,  so 
retarded  by  backslidings,  and  by  the  consciousness  of 
insecurity. 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  I51 

And  in  yet  another  way,  I  believe  that  the  general 
teaching  of  physiology  would  insure  its  more  rapid  pro- 
gress— namely,  by  finding  out  those  who  are  especially 
fit  for  its  study. 

If  we  mark  the  peculiar  fitness  of  certain  men  for 
special  callings,  who  are  even  below  an  average  ability 
in  the  common  business  of  life,  one  might  imagine  some 
natural  design  of  mutual  adaptation  between  things  to 
be  done  and  men  to  do  them  ;  and  certainly,  it  were  to 
be  wished  that  a  wider  scheme  of  education  should  leave 
it  less  to  chance  whether  a  man  will  fall,  or  fail  to  fall, 
in  the  way  of  that  special  work  for  which  he  seems 
designed.  Really,  it  has  seemed  like  a  chance  that  has 
led  nearly  every  one  of  our  best  physiologists  to  his 
appropriate  work ;  like  a  chance,  the  loss  of  which 
might  have  consigned  him  to  a  life  of  failures,  or  of 
mediocrity,  in  some  occupation  for  which  he  had  neither 
capacity  nor  love. 

Such  are  some  of  the  chief  benefits  that  might  result 
to  physiology  if  it  were  more  generally  studied.  I 
liiight  tell  of  more ;  but  I  will  not  do  so,  nor  enlarge  on 
these  ;  for,  it  might  be  argued,  that  it  would  be  unjust 
to  tax  every  one  with  intellectual  labour  for  the  ad- 
vancement of  one  science,  even  though  that  science  be 
the  foundation  of  the  healing  art,  in  whose  improve- 
ment every  one  is  interested.  I  will  rather  try  to  show 
that,  through  such  labour  in  the  study  of  physiology, 
every  one  would  gain  for  himself  some  more  direct 
advantage. 

I  believe  that  even  a  moderate  acquaintance  with  the 
principles  of  physiology,  acquired  in  early  life,  would 
benefit  a  man,  with  regard  to  both  his  body  and  his  mind  ; 
and  that  it  would  do  this  by  guiding  him  in  the  main- 


152  DR.   PAGET 

tenance  and  improvement  of  health,  by  teaching  him 
the  true  economy  of  his  powers,  whether  mental  or  cor- 
poreal, by  providing  worthy  materials  for  thought,  and 
by  cultivating  peculiar  modes,  and  suggesting  peculiai 
ends,  of  thinking. 

But  before  I  attempt  to  illustrate  these  things,  let  me 
meet  an  objection  which  is  likely  to  be  made  against 
any  proposal  that  physiology  should  be  a  subject  of 
general  education, — namely,  that  it  cannot  be  generally 
taught,  because  (it  is  supposed)  its  objects  are  difficult 
to  show,  and  it  requires  dissections  and  painful  experi- 
ments for  its  illustration. 

To  such  objections,  the  answer  is  easy :  that  the  rudi- 
ments of  physiology  are  taught  already,  largely  and 
efficiently,  in  several  schools  of  both  England  and 
Scotland.  For  such  instruction,  no  general  practice 
of  dissection  or  of  experiments  is  at  all  necessary.  For 
most  of  the  illustrations,  drawings  would  suffice ;  espe- 
cially such  as  those  which  have  been  constructed  with 
admirable  art,  and  published  for  the  use  of  schools, 
under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Marshall,  of  University  Col- 
lege, for  the  Board  of  Trade  Department  of  Science. 
Other  things  could  be  well  taught  with  models.*  The 
organs  of  animals  might,  in  some  instances,  be  used ; 
and  dried  specimens.  Only  let  there  be  a  demand  for 
the  materials  of  such  teaching,  and  I  will  venture  to 
promise,  that  modern  art,  such  as  these  examples  dis- 
play, will  soon  supply  them  at  no  great  cost,  and  without 
offence  to  the  most  refined  feelings. 

But  while  I  speak  of  what  modem  art  would  do,  I 
am  bound  to  add  that  the  teaching  of  physiology,  not  by 

*  Specimena  were  shown  of  modcU  of  the  development  of  the  cb<ck, 
rcr)'  accurately  executed  in  wax,  frum  nature,  by  Mr.  Tuson. 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  1 53 

representations,  but  by  the  very  objects  of  its  study, 
was  long  ago  sanctioned  by  the  highest  and  most 
venerated  authority  in  the  land.  For,  in  the  Museum 
of  the  College  of  Surgeons,  there  are  now  several 
beautiful  specimens  of  the  chief  organs  of  the  human 
body,  prepared  by  John  Hunter,  which  formed  part 
of  a  collection,  made  at  Kew,  by  his  Majesty  King 
George  III.,  for  the  instruction  of  the  princes,  hi5 
sons. 

But  if  it  be  admitted  that  physiology  can  be  gene- 
rally taught,  yet  some  may  say  that,  so  far  as  the 
improvement  of  health  and  the  economy  of  power  are 
concerned,  such  teaching  is  unnecessary ;  for  that,  to 
these  ends,  a  man  need  only  follow  the  guidance  of 
nature  and  of  instinct.  And,  indeed,  at  first  thought,  it 
may  seem  very  strange  that  we  should  want  instruction 
for  keeping  ourselves  in  health ;  strange  that  man 
should  be  left  with  no  natural  true  guidance  to  so  great 
a  good :  that  man  alone,  for  whom  the  earth  seems 
made,  should  need  mental  labour  to  preserve  or  recover 
bodily  health.  Yet  so  it  is :  for  none  of  our  untaught 
faculties,  neither  our  senses  nor  our  instincts,  are  suf- 
ficient guides  to  good  or  guards  from  evil,  in  even  the 
ordinary  conditions  of  civilized  life. 

The  acuteness  of  our  senses  is  not  at  all  propor- 
tionate to  the  vital  importance  of  the  things  that  we 
observe  with  them.  They  are  unable  to  discern  the 
properties,  or  even  the  presence,  of  some  of  the  most 
deadly  agents.  For  example,  we  have  a  far  keener 
sense  of  the  temperature  of  the  atmosphere  than  of  its 
composition,  or  fitness  for  breathing :  yet  the  ordinary 
changes  in  its  temperature  concern  little  more  than  out 
comfort ;  those  in  its  composition  may  affect  our  life 


154  DR-   PAGET 

And  thus  it  is  that,  seeking  only  the  comfort  of  w-armth, 
which  their  senses  can  discern,  men  will  breathe  atmo- 
spheres laden  with  noxious  gases,  which  they  can  scarcely 
detect  till  they  have  accumulated  to  the  peril  of  their 
lives. 

So  with  food  :  we  have  a  keener  sense  of  hunger  and 
thirst  than  of  the  sufficiency  or  fitness  of  our  foods. 
We  can  at  once  appreciate  their  flavour,  but  not  their 
nutritive  value ;  and  those  we  most  affect  are  not  always 
the  most  appropriate  to  our  state. 

Our  instincts  avail  us  scarcely  more.  After  childhood, 
in  civilized  life,  the  instincts  are  almost  in  abeyance,  and 
the  intellect  and  instruction  have  a  share  in  the  most 
ordinary  acts  of  life.  The  sensations  of  thirst  and 
hunger  impel  us  instinctively  to  seek  their  satisfaction, 
and  by  instinct  we  know  how  to  do  so ;  but  in  doing  it, 
we  drink  in  adaptation  to  instruments  of  intellectual  in- 
vention ;  and  we  eat  things  intellectually  cooked,  with 
apparatus  of  intellectual  art :  yes,  intellectual,  for  the 
meanest  piece  of  cookery  requires  that  control  and 
management  of  fire,  which  no  mind  lower  than  the 
human  intellect  has  ever  reached,  and  the  possession 
of  which  might  alone  suffice  to  prove  man's  primacy 
among  all  the  creatures  of  the  earth. 

But  I  need  not  multiply  instances  (I  will  not  say  of 
the  inutility,  but)  of  the  insufficiency  of  our  untaught 
jiowers  for  our  guidance,  in  the  commonest  things  of 
civilized  life,  relating  to  our  health.  Every  one  has 
suffered  from  following  what  has  seemed  some  natural 
guidance,  and  has  learned  that  we  only  gradually  attain 
some  knowledge  of  these  things  by  experience  or  educa- 
tion; i.e.  by  the  exercise  of  the  understanding  as  well 
as  of  the  senses. 


ON  THE  STUDY   OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  1 55 

If  it  be  asked  whether  a  state  of  ignorance  regarding 
his  own  health  be  natural  to  man,  I  must  answer  that  I 
suppose  Providence  has  taken  ample  care  for  his  good, 
in  all  those  things  which  are  of  natural  ordinance  and 
independent  of  his  will ;  but  that,  for  those  conditions 
which  he  generates  or  incurs  by  his  own  power  and  free- 
will, he  is  left  by  the  same  power  to  provide.  I  suppose 
that  men  may,  generally,  be,  like  other  creatures,  aware, 
by  sense  or  instinct,  of  those  things  which  are  for  their 
good,  when  the  simplest  conditions  of  their  existence 
are  undisturbed.  But  these  are  not  the  conditions  in 
which  we  live.  Men  have  disturbed,  in  successive  gene- 
rations, almost  every  simple  and  original  condition  of 
their  existence.  In  every  generation,  they  have  been 
striving,  with  intellectual  labour,  to  add  to  the  comforts 
and  luxuries  of  life,  to  their  control  of  the  forces,  and 
their  independence  of  the  ordinary  course,  of  nature. 
And  many  of  their  successes  in  this  strife,  being  achieved 
by  the  disturbance  of  some  natural  and  fit  condition  of 
mere  subsistence,  have  almost  necessarily  incurred  some 
consequent  evils,  which  have  marred,  though  they  may 
not  have  neutralized,  the  good,  and  have  gradually  ac- 
cumulated to  our  damage. 

If,  indeed,  in  all  the  improvements  of  our  means  of 
life,  only  half  the  trouble  had  been  taken  to  prevent  or 
remedy  the  future  evil,  that  was  taken  to  attain  the 
present  good,  our  state  might  have  been  far  different. 
If,  for  examples,  men  had  been  as  anxious  to  invent  the 
means  of  destroying  coal-smoke,  as  to  gain  the  myriad 
benefits  of  coal-fires  ;  if  they  had  thought  as  much  and 
as  soon  of  constructing  drains  below  the  ground,  as  of 
building  above  it ;  as  much  even  of  clearing  out  the 
refuse  of  our  gas-lights,  as  of  tempering  and  diffusing 


156  DR.  PAGET 

their  brilliancy  for  comfortable  use ; — then  we  might 
have  gained  unalloyed  benefits  from  every  such  disturb- 
ance of  the  natural  conditions  of  life :  the  vast  catalogue 
of  diseases  appertaining  to  our  social  state  might  have 
been  unwritten  ;  and  that  which  one  age  hailed  as  a 
national  blessing  might  not  have  entailed  upon  the  next 
a  national  calamity.  But  this  has  not  been  done  ;  and 
thus,  from  age  to  age,  the  evil  residues  of  good  things 
have  accumulated ;  the  good  still,  happily,  prepon- 
derating, but  the  evils  such  as  every  man,  and  every 
society  of  men,  have  now  to  guard  against,  and  such  as 
can  be  averted  or  counteracted  with  no  other  human 
power  than  that  of  the  intellect  instructed  in  the  science 
of  health. 

Perhaps,  now,  the  only  question  is,  whether  this  in- 
struction need  be  given  to  all,  or  whether  it  had  not 
better  be  still  left,  as  it  is  by  present  custom,  to  a  few,  to 
exercise  it  in  a  special  profession.  I  cannot  doubt  that 
here,  as  in  other  cases,  for  all  ordinary  care,  for  all 
habitual  management,  each  man  should  be  fit  to  be  his 
own  guardian  ;  while  for  emergencies,  and  the  more 
unusual  events,  he  should  accept  and  be  able  to  choose 
some  more  instructed  guidance.  It  is  not  necessary,  or 
likely,  that  every  one  who  has  learnt  somewhat  of  the 
structure  of  his  own  body,  and  of  the  processes  carried 
on  in  it,  should  seek  to  be  his  own  doctor ;  not  more  so 
than  that  every  one  who  has  learnt  the  construction  and 
principle  of  a  steam-engine,  should  be  restless  unless 
he  be  his  own  engineer.  We  need  not  fear  a  misuse, 
through  excessive  use,  of  such  physiology  as  can  be 
generally  taught  Certainly,  if  I  may  speak  as  one  of 
the  medical  profession,  we  see  greater  injur)'  sustained 
through  ignorance,  than  is  likely  to  accrue  to  imperfect 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  157 

knowledge,  whether  it  be  the  most  timid  or  the  most 
rash. 

And  here,  when  I  speak  of  ignorance,  I  am  obhged  to 
say  that  I  do  not  mean  only  the  state  of  those  who  are 
wholly  uneducated,  but  include  the  state  of  nearly  all 
who  have  not  received  some  special  teaching.  For, 
really,  in  regard  to  all  that  concerns  our  life  and  health, 
it  seems  as  if  no  amount  of  general  education,  no  clear- 
ness of  apprehension  for  science  or  for  the  general 
business  of  life,  were  sufficient  for  security  against  the 
grossest  errors.  I  will  not  speak  of  the  follies  (as  I 
believe  them  to  be)  that  are  now  regarded  as  truths,  and 
even  useful  truths,  by  generally  well-instructed,  shrewd, 
and  accomplished  persons.  I  will  only  say  that,  at  all 
times,  such  persons  have  been  as  ready  as  the  most  un- 
educated to  believe  and  submit  themselves  to  practices, 
which  the  physiology  even  of  their  own  times  could 
prove  to  be  gross  and  mischievous  fallacies.  In  every 
age,  it  has  been  true  that  "  the  desire  of  health,  like  the 
desire  of  wealth,  brings  all  intellects  to  the  same  level ; " 
that  is,  all  that  have  not  some  special  wisdom  in  the  art 
of  health  or  of  wealth. 

If  now  it  may  be  received  that  physiology  should  be 
generally  studied  for  the  sake  of  health,  it  may  be  asked 
what  parts  of  it  should  be  chiefly  taught,  and  in  what 
method  ?  I  might  leave  this  to  those  who  are  occupied 
with  general  education,  and  with  younger  students  than 
I  have  had  to  teach.  But  considering  that  the  large 
majority  of  those  to  whom  it  would  be  taught  are  to 
be  engaged,  in  after  life,  in  pursuits  alien  from  science, 
and  that  we  therefore  could  not  hope  to  do  much  more 
than  leave  general  impressions  such  as  might  abide  for 
general  guidance,  I  feel  nearly  sure  that  the  mere  facts 


158  DR.   PAGET 

of  physiology,  and  much  more  those  of  anatomy,  should 
be  taught  in  subordination  to  their  general  principles. 

If  I  try  to  illustrate  this  by  an  example,  I  fear  lest 
to  some  I  seem  almost  unintelligible ;  for  I  have  never 
before  this  time  lectured  to  others  than  students  or 
'nembers  of  my  own  profession,  to  whom  I  could  use 
technical  terms,  and  whom  I  could  suppose  to  be,  in 
some  measure,  already  acquainted  with  my  subject. 

But,  for  an  example, — in  relation  to  the  economy  of 
power,  suppose  of  muscular  power,  and  thereby  in  regard 
to  the  maintenance  of  health,  it  would  have  to  be 
taught,  that,  in  the  living  body,  the  apparent  stability 
and  persistence  of  its  structures  is  due,  not  to  their  being 
literally  indestructible,  but  to  the  constant  operation  of 
a  process  in  them,  by  which  the  materials  that  decay, 
or  are  outworn  in  the  exercise  of  their  offices,  are  con- 
stantly removed,  and  replaced  by  new  ones  like  them- 
selves. We  know  that  in  all  the  actions  of  the  body, 
there  is  waste  and  impairment  of  the  active  parts.  But 
though,  day  after  day,  we  exert,  even  in  the  common 
acts  of  life,  in  walking,  feeding,  breathing,  thinking, 
talking,  great  amounts  of  force,  and  though,  with  the 
use  of  force,  there  is  always  a  proportionate  consump- 
tion of  the  material  of  our  bodies,  yet,  year  after  year 
(at  least  for  many  years),  we  appear  to  be  and  feel  the 
same :  because  the  consumption,  the  wear  and  tear,  of 
material,  that  occur  in  the  action  of  our  several  parts,  is 
constantly  repaired  in  the  intervals  of  rest. 

Then,  following  out  this  principle,  it  might  be  shown, 
that  an  economy  of  vital  power  is  commonly  maintained 
in  the  body  by  the  just  regulation  of  alternate  periods 
of  action  and  rei>ose;  and  this  might  be  taken  as  a 
principle  for  useful  illustration. 


ON  THE  STUDY   OF   PHYSIOLOGY. 


159 


The  climax  of  the  exercise  of  muscular  power  seems 
to  be  attained  in  the  heart.  Perhaps  there  is  nothing,  oi 
equal  weight,  that  exerts  in  the  same  time  so  large  an 
amount  of  force  as  a  heart  does.  In  every  second,  ot 
oftener,  discharging  blood  from  its  cavities  with  a  force 
equal  to  the  lifting  of  a  weight  of  from  ten  to  fifteen 
pounds,  it  goes  on  hour  after  hour,  and  year  after  year, 
untired  and  almost  unchanged.  Now,  by  the  similarity 
between  the  structure  and  mode  of  contraction  of  the 
muscular  fibres  of  the  heart,  and  those  of  the  muscles 
over  which  we  have  control,  we  may  be  sure  that  its 
fibres  are  subject  to  the  same  impairment  in  action  as 
theirs  are  known  to  be ;  and  that  they  must  need  the 
same  repair  in  rest,  as  the  voluntary  muscles  obtain  in 
sleep.  But  the  heart  seems  never  to  sleep  ;  and  we  ex- 
plain the  secret  of  its  apparently  unceasing  exercise  of 
power,  by  referring  to  its  exact  rhythm  of  alternating 
contractions  and  dilatations ;  by  the  fact,  that  every 
contraction  by  which  it  forces  blood  into  the  vessels,  i.e. 
every  act  which  we  can  feel  as  a  beat  or  throb,  is  suc- 
ceeded by  an  interval  of  rest,  or  inaction,  of  the  same 
length ;  and  by  the  probability,  that  in  each  period  of 
inaction  (brief  as  it  is),  the  changes  that  occurred  during 
the  contraction  are  repaired. 

It  is  the  same  with  the  muscles  for  breathing,  in  their 
ordinary  and  involuntary  exercise.  The  alternation  of 
their  action  and  repose  is  con-stant  •  and  they  too,  though 
exerting  forces  that  are  truly  enormous,  neither  waste 
nor  weary  themselves ;  because  (we  may  hold)  in  every 
oeriod  of  inaction  they  repair  the  changes  wrought  in 
them  by  their  action. 

Now  the  principle  which  is  thus  illustrated  may  pro- 
bably  be   appHed    to    nearly    all    muscular    exertion. 


l6o  DR.   PAGET 

Whatever  work  is  to  be  done,  the  largest  amount  of 
force  may  be  utilized  with  the  least  injury,  when  rcit 
and  action  are  made  to  be  alternate.  Ard  this  is  to  be 
observed,  not  only  m  that  long  rest  which  our  voluntar>* 
muscles  have  in  sleep,  but,  equally,  in  more  active  life ; 
wherein  more  force  is  always  obtained  by  the  alternate 
action  of  certain  groups  of  muscles,  than  by  the  sus- 
tained action  of  any  single  group.  Thus,  I  think,  it  can 
be  proved  that  there  are  no  voluntary  actions  in  which 
the  human  body  can  exercise  larger  amounts  of  force 
than  in  ordinary  progression,  as  in  walking  or  in  run- 
ning. And  it  is  because  of  the  alternation  of  the  similar 
acts  done  by  the  two  halves  of  the  bod}%  and  especially 
by  the  two  lower  extremities.  For  if  you  watch  a  man 
walking,  you  will  see  that  each  of  his  limbs  is  doing 
exactly  the  opposite  to  what  the  other  is  doing,  and  to 
what  itself  has  just  finished  doing;  and  the  correspond- 
ing muscles  are  never  in  the  same  action  upon  both 
sides  at  once :  and  so  if  one  step  have  been  made,  say, 
chiefly,  with  the  muscular  effort  of  the  right  limb,  the 
next  will  be  made  with  a  similar  effort  of  the  left,  while 
those  of  the  right  will  have  an  interval  of  comparative 
inaction. 

In  some  measure,  therefore,  the  principle  of  alternate 
action  and  repose,  typified  in  the  case  of  the  heart,  is 
applied  here.  But  it  is  not  so  completely  observed  ;  for 
we  tire  in  walking,  even  while  our  hearts  may  be  grow- 
ing more  active.  This,  however,  is  not  only  because  oC 
the  motion,  but  because  many  muscles  mast  be  in 
almost  constant  exercise  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
erect  posture,  and  because,  probably,  in  these  voluntary 
exercises  the  rest  of  a  muscle  is  never  quite  perfect,  even 
in  its  relaxing  state. 


ON   THE   STUDY  OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  l6l 

This  same  principle,  of  the  economy  of  force  in  the 
alternation  of  action  and  repose,  is  doubtless  true  of  the 
nervous  as  of  the  muscular  system  ;  and  on  it  we  ex- 
plain the  need  of  repose,  prolonged  and  deep,  in  direct 
proportion  to  the  length  and  intensity  of  mental  exer- 
cise. On  the  same  principle,  we  explain  the  refresh- 
ment of  the  mind  by  change  of  occupation  or  of  the 
train  of  thought :  so  that,  while  one  part  of  the  brain  is 
occupied,  another  may  be  at  rest  after  its  work  is  done. 
And  many  like  things  may  be  thus  explained,  which  it 
would  be  well  for  all  to  know,  but  chiefly  for  those  who 
have  to  teach,  and  who  need  to  regulate  their  pupils' 
mental  exercises  with  the  best  economy  they  can. 

There  is  another  class  of  organs  in  which  the  alter- 
nations of  action  and  rest,  of  waste  and  repair,  appear 
essential  to  the  full  exercise  and  economy  of  power. 
The  stomach  is  one  of  these ;  and  a  knowledge  of  the 
method  of  its  office  of  digestion  might  prevent  some- 
what of  its  almost  universal  misuse. 

Its  cnief  office  in  digestion  is  to  produce  a  peculiar 
fluid  which,  mingling  with  the  food,  may,  by  a  process 
similp.r  to  fermentation,  reduce  it  to  solution  or  to  a  state 
of  extremely  minute  division.  This  fluid,  the  gastric  or 
digestive  fluid,  does  not  merely  ooze  from  the  blood ; 
but  is  so  formed  in  minute  cells,  that,  for  each  minutest 
microscopic  drop  of  it,  a  cell,  of  complex  structure,  must 
be  developed,  grow,  and  burst  or  be  dissolved. 

A  diagram  would  very  well  show  how  the  lining 
membrane  of  the  stomach  is  formed,  almost  entirely,  of 
minute  tubes,  set  vertically  in  its  thickness,  like  little 
flasks  or  test-tubes,  close  packed  and  upright.  The 
outer  walls  of  these  are  webbed  over  with  net-works  of 
most  delicate  blood-vessels,  carrying  streams  of  blood 


102  DR.   PAGET 

Within,  the  same  tubes  contain  cells,  and  those  among 
them  which  chiefly  secrete  the  digestive  fluid  are  nearly 
filled  with  cells,  which  have  taken  materials  from  the 
blood,  and  from  those  materials  have  formed  themselves 
and  their  contents.  In  what  way  they  have  done  this, 
we  cannot  tell :  but  we  can  tell  that  the  process  is  one 
of  complicate  though  speedy  development  and  growth  ; 
even  such  a  process  as  that  by  which,  more  slowly,  the 
body  grows,  or  any  of  its  parts, — the  hair  or  the  nails,  or 
any  other  that  we  can  best  watch.  The  act  of  secretion 
or  production  of  this  fluid  is,  literally,  the  growth  and 
dissolution  of  the  minute  cells  which,  though  they  be 
very  short-lived,  yet  must  need  a  certain  time  for  their 
complete  elaboration. 

If  this  be  so,  it  must  follow,  that  we  cannot,  with 
impunity,  interfere  with  that  which  seems  a  natural 
rule,  of  allowing  certain  intervals  between  the  several 
times  of  feeding.  Every  act  of  digestion  involves  the 
consumption  of  some  of  these  cells :  on  every  contact  of 
food,  some  must  quickly  perfect  themselves,  and  yield 
up  their  contents ;  and  without  doubt,  the  design  of  that 
periodical  taking  of  food,  which  is  natural  to  our  race,  is 
that,  in  the  intervals,  there  may  be  time  for  the  produc- 
tion of  the  cells  that  are  to  be  consumed  in  the  next 
succeeding  acts  of  digestion.  We  can,  indeed,  state  no 
constant  rule  as  to  the  time  required  for  such  construc- 
tions :  it  probably  varies  according  to  age,  and  the  kind 
of  food,  and  the  general  activity  or  indolence  of  life, 
and,  above  all,  according  to  habit ;  but  it  may  be  cer- 
tainly held,  that  when  the  times  are  set,  they  cannot, 
with  impunity,  be  often  interfered  with  ;  and,  as  cer- 
tainly, that  continual  or  irregular  feeding  is  wholly  con- 
trary to  the  economy  of  the  human  stomach.     And  yet 


ON  THE  STUDY   OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  163 

such  constant  feeding  is  a  frequent  custom — not  infre- 
quent among  the  adult  rich,  but  most  frequent  among 
the  infants  of  the  poor,  for  whom  food  is  the  solace  of 
every  grief 

I  would  thus  try  to  teach  general  principles  of  physi- 
ology ;  and  with  such  principles  there  might  easily  be 
combined  some  useful  rules  for  prudence  in  the  ordinary 
management  of  personal  or  social  health,  and  in  the 
habitual  exercise  of  power. 

I  will  not  venture  to  say  that  it  is  only  by  teaching 
physiology  that  prudence  can  be  taught ;  for  even  in  the 
cases  I  have  cited,  physiology  teaches  no  other  rule  than 
Nature  and  experience  had  already  indicated.  Still,  even 
in  regard  to  those  rules,  when  it  shows  their  reason  and 
their  meaning,  it  gives  them  strength,  and  it  enlists  the 
power  of  the  understanding  against  the  overbearing  of 
inclination  and  bad  habit.  And  so,  though  it  might  be 
impossible  to  teach  more  than  a  small  part  of  the  whole 
body  of  physiology,  yet  one  who  had  learned  even  this 
part  would  have  a  better  apprehension  of  the  rest  than 
one  untaught  could  have.  One  who  had  learned  the 
general  mode  of  study,  and  the  labour  which  is  spent  in 
ascertaining  physiological  truths,  and  the  great  proba- 
bility that  what  is  generally  accepted  is  at  least  nearly 
true,  would,  more  than  an  untaught  man,  act  on  the 
advice  of  those  who  are  instructed.  Thus  acting,  he 
would,  as  a  citizen,  be  no  hinderer  of  improvements,  no 
block  of  utter  ignorance  in  the  way  of  amending  the 
sanitary  condition  of  his  fellows  :  with  belief,  if  not  with 
knowledge,  he  would  give  his  help  to  good.  And  for 
his  own  guidance,  such  an  one,  though  only  partially 
instructed,  would  be  a  far  better  judge  than  most  men 
are  of  the  probable  value  of  professed  discoveries  in 


164  DR.  PAGET 

medicine :  he  would  be  doubtful  of  all  unreserved  assert 
tions;  wisely  incredulous  of  all  results  supposed  to  flow 
from  apparently  incompetent  sources.  Even  the  desire 
of  health  would  bear  frequent  disappointment,  before 
it  would  induce  him  to  commit  himself  to  the  daring 
promises  of  ignorance. 

I  have  said  that  we  might  anticipate  advantages  to 
the  mind,  as  well  as  to  the  bodily  health,  from  making 
pnysiology  a  branch  of  general  education.  And  some 
of  these  advantages  must  not  be  widely  separated  from 
those  of  which  I  have  been  speaking ;  for  they  are,  in 
truth,  closely  correspondent,  derived  from  the  same 
source  and  by  the  same  method.  The  health  of  the 
mind,  so  far  as  it  is  within  our  own  control,  is  subject  to 
the  same  laws  as  is  the  health  of  the  body.  For  the 
brain,  the  organ  of  the  mind,  grows  and  is  maintained 
according  to  the  same  method  of  nutrition  as  every 
other  part  of  the  body:  it  is  supplied  by  the  same 
blood  ;  and  through  the  blood,  like  every  other  part, 
may  be  affected  for  good  or  ill  by  the  various  physical 
influence.*;  to  which  it  is  exposed.  But  I  will  not  dwell 
on  this,  more  than  to  assert,  as  safely  deducible  from 
physiology,  that  no  scheme  of  instruction,  or  of  legis- 
lation, can  avail  for  the  improvement  of  the  human 
mind,  which  does  not  provide  with  equal  care  for  the 
well-being  of  the  human  body.  Deprive  men  of  fresh 
air,  and  pure  water,  of  the  light  of  heaven,  and  of  suf- 
ficient food  and  rest,  and  as  surely  as  their  bodies  will 
become  dwarfish,  and  pallid,  and  diseased,  so  surely 
will  their  minds  degenerate  in  intellectual  and  moral 
power. 

But  let  me  suppose  that  these  needs  of  the  body  may 
be  happily  within  men's  reach ;  and  then  I  may  speak 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  PHYSIOLOGY.  165 

of  the  advantages  that  would  accrue,  from  the  general 
study  of  physiology,  in  the  mental  culture  it  would 
provide. 

I  again  remind  myself  that  the  cases  to  be  kept  in 
view  are  not  only  those  of  men  who  are  to  be  chiefly 
occupied  with  science,  but  those  of  persons  who  are  to 
pursue  the  various  common  businesses  of  life ;  and  upon 
whose  minds  we  cannot  expect  that  those  studies  of 
their  school-time,  which  would  be  widely  different  from 
the  occupations  of  their  later  life,  will  do  more  than 
leave  general  impressions,  and  impart  an  habitual  method 
and  tone  of  thought.  To  such  persons,  I  believe  that 
the  study  of  physiology  would  be  useful,  first,  on  the 
general  ground,  that  they  who  can,  with  most  force, 
apply  themselves  to  any  business  in  life  (be  it  what  it 
may),  are  those  whose  minds  are  disciplined  and  infoimed 
in  all  their  parts,  so  as  to  be  not  only  full  and  strong, 
but  pliant,  liberal,  and  adaptive. 

Now,  there  are  some  characters  in  physiology  by 
means  of  which  its  study  might  affect  the  mind,  or 
certain  parts  of  it,  differently  from  any  portions  of  even 
that  enlarged  education  which  it  is  the  object  of  this 
whole  course  of  lectures  to  recommend. 

One  of  these  is,  that  it  is  occupied  with  things  of 
admitted  incompleteness  and  uncertainty.  In  other, 
and  especially  in  the  physical,  sciences,  I  think  it  is 
only  the  master,  or  the  advanced  student,  who  is  im- 
pressed with  their  uncertainty.  In  them,  speaking  gene- 
rally, that  which  is  taught  admits  of  clear  proof;  and 
imperfection  is  not  spoken  of,  except,  as  it  were,  at  the 
distant  boundaries  of  a  vast  body  of  truth.  But,  in 
physiology,  the  teacher  would  need  everywhere  to  mark 
the  imperfections  of  his  knowledge;  in  the  very  rudi- 


1 66  DR.  PAGET 

merits,  he  must  speak  of  things  as  only,  in  various 
dcjp'ees,  probable. 

Some  of  my  predecessors  in  this  course  have  shown 
how  much  the  value  of  the  physical  sciences  lies  in  the 
possibility  of  proving  ivhat  is  held  in  them,  and  in  the 
precision  of  the  mental  exercises  which  they  thus  demand 
and  cultivate ;  and  no  one  can  be  more  conscious  than  I 
am  that,  on  this  account,  they  are  indispensable  elements 
of  sound  education.  But  I  believe,  also,  that  it  would 
be  right  to  mingle  with  this  study  that  of  a  much  more 
incomplete  and  uncertain  science.  I  think  it  would  be 
good,  at  least  for  some  minds,  to  know  in  early  life  how 
much  has  yet  to  be  done  in  science;  so  that  some,  through 
ambition  of  discovery,  some  through  love  of  enterprise, 
some  through  mere  curiosity,  might  be  excited  to  work 
among  the  stores  of  unexplored  knowledge  that  would 
be  pointed  out  to  them.  It  is  strange  how  early,  and 
how  strong  in  early  life,  these  ambitions  of  discovery 
and  invention  arise;  and  I  suppose  that,  in  all  later  life, 
there  are  no  enjoyments  more  keen,  or  more  invigorat- 
ing to  the  mind,  than  those  felt  in  boyhood,  when  such 
an  ambition  is  gratified  ; — whether  by  the  finding  of 
some  plant  unknown  before  in  the  home-district,  or  by 
the  invention  of  some  new  appliance  to  a  toy,  imitating 
what  men  deal  with,  or, — it  matters  not  by  how  trivial 
a  thing.  I  would  not  venture  to  say  how  large  a  part 
such  ambition  should  be  allowed  to  have  among  the 
motives  to  study,  but  I  think  it  should  not  be  quite 
suppressed,  or  starved,  as  it  is  by  teaching  only  such 
things  as  are  already  proved,  or  decided  by  authority. 

And,  perhaps,  yet  another  advantage  would  flow  from 
the  teaching  of  physiology,  honestly  and  expressly,  as 
a  very  incomplete  and  uncertain  science.     It  is  a  great 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  1 67 

nindranee  to  the  progress  of  truth,  that  some  men  will 
hold,  with  equal  tenacity,  things  that  are,  and  things 
that  are  not,  proved  ;  and  even  things  that,  from  their 
very  nature,  do  not  admit  of  proof.  They  seem  to  think 
(and  ordinary  education  might  be  pleaded  as  justifying 
the  thought)  that  a  plain  "yes"  or  "  no"  can  be  answered 
to  every  question  that  can  be  plainly  asked  ;  and  that 
everything  thus  answered  is  a  settled  thing,  and  to  be 
maintained  as  a  point  of  conscience.  I  need  not  adduce 
instances  of  this  error,  while  its  mischiefs  are  manifest 
everywhere  in  the  wrongs  done  by  premature  and  tena- 
cious judgments. 

I  am  aware  that  these  are  faults  of  the  temper,  not 
less  than  of  the  judgment ;  but  we  know  how  much  the 
temper  is  influenced  by  the  character  of  our  studies ; 
and  I  think  if  any  one  were  to  be  free  from  this  over- 
zeal  of  opinion,  it  should  be  one  who  is  early  instructed 
in  an  uncertain  science,  such  as  physiology.  He  might 
receive,  with  reverent  submission,  all  revealed  truth  ;  he 
might  bend  unquestioning  to  the  declarations  of  teachers 
authorized  to  promulgate  positive  commandments ;  but 
his  habit  of  thinking  how  soon  all  inquiries  concerning 
living  things  end  in  uncertainty,  his  experience  of  the 
exceeding  difficulty  of  settling  for  ever  even  a  small 
matter,  would  make  him  very  scrupulous  in  accepting 
as  completely  proved,  very  slow  in  making  a  point  of 
conscience  of,  anything  that  may  be  made  a  matter  of 
reasonable  discussion  or  of  further  study. 

Let  me  repeat,  that  I  do  not  hold  that  it  is  beneficial 
to  study  only  or  chiefly  such  a  science  as  this,  whose 
principles  scarcely  admit  of  full  proof.  I  know  too  well 
the  danger  of  resting  satisfied  with  error,  when  truth 
cannot  be  quite  attained.     But  I  lecture  only  as  one  ol 


1 68  DR.   PAGET 

many,  advocating  the  importance  of  as  many  different 
branches  of  study ;  and  I  think  that  the  early  study  of 
uncertainties  might  well  be  mingled  with  that  of  things 
which  may  be  proved  beyond  all  doubt. 

But  I  have  yet  to  speak  of  that  through  which,  I 
believe,  the  general  teaching  of  physiology  would  exer- 
cise the  greatest  influence  upon  the  mind ;  namely,  its 
being,  essentially,  a  science  of  designs  and  final  causes. 
In  this  (if  we  regard  it  in  its  full  meaning,  as  the  science 
concerning  living  things)  it  is  chiefly  in  contrast  with 
the  physical  sciences,  and,  so  far  as  I  know,  with  nearly 
all  the  other  studies  of  even  the  widest  scheme  of 
education. 

I  do  not  say  that  it  is  only  in  living  things  that  we 
can  discern  the  evidences  of  design.  Doubtless,  things 
that  are  dead — things  that  we  call  inorganic,  when  we 
would  distinguish  them  from  living  organisms — are  yet 
purposive,  and  mutually  adapted  to  co-operate  in  the 
fulfilment  of  design.  We  cannot  doubt,  for  example, 
that  all  the  parts  of  this  dead  earth,  and  all  the  members 
of  our  planetary  system,  are  adapted  to  one  another 
with  mutual  influence ;  balanced  and  laid  out  in  appro- 
priate weight  and  measure ;  fitted  each  to  do  its  part, 
and  serve  its  purpose,  in  some  vast  design.  And  thus 
the  whole  universe  might  be  called  an  organism ;  con- 
structed in  parts  a«id  systems,  almost  infinite  in  number 
and  variety,  but  adjusted  with  an  all-pervading  purpose. 
Still,  there  is  a  striking  difference  between  dead  and 
living  things,  in  the  degree  and  manner  in  which  their 
laws  and  their  designs  are  manifest  to  us.  In  the  inor- 
ganic world,  in  the  studies  of  the  physical  sciences,  we 
seem  to  come  nearer  to  the  efllicient,  than  to  the  final, 
causes  of  events.    We  discern,  it  may  be,  both  the  most 


ON  THE   STUDY  OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  ibg 

general  laws,  and  the  most  minute  details  of  the  events : 
but  these  rarely  shadow  forth  their  purpose  or  design  ; 
or,  if  they  do,  it  is  a  design  in  adaptation  to  organic  life, 
as  where  we  may  trace  the  fitness  of  the  earth  and  air 
fi>r  their  living  occupants.  But  in  the  organic  world,  the 
reverse  is  true :  purpose,  design,  and  mutual  fitness  are 
manifest  wherever  we  can  discern  the  structure  or  the 
actions  of  a  part ;  utility  and  mutual  dependence  are 
implied  in  all  the  language,  and  sought  in  all  the  studies, 
of  physiology.  The  efficient  causes  and  the  general 
laws  of  the  vital  actions  may  be  hidden  from  the  keenest 
search ;  but  their  final  causes  are  often  nearly  certain. 
In  the  sciences  of  the  inorganic  world,  we  can  learn  how 
changes  are  accomplished,  but  we  can  rarely  tell  why 
they  are :  in  those  of  the  organic  world,  the  question 
"  why  "  can  be  often  answered,  the  question  "  how "  is 
generally  an  enigma  that  we  cannot  solve. 

Now,  were  there  no  other  argument  for  the  general 
teaching  of  physiology,  I  would  be  content  with  this : 
that  an  education  which  does  not  include  the  teaching 
of  some  science  of  natural  designs,  does  not  provide  for 
the  instruction  of  one  of  the  best  powers  and  aspirations 
of  the  mind. 

The  askings  of  children  seem  to  indicate  a  natural 
desire  after  the  knowledge  of  the  purposes  fulfilled  in 
nature.  "  Why  ? "  and  "  Of  what  use  ? "  are  the  ends  of 
half  their  untutored  questions ;  and  we  may  be  sure 
they  have  not  the  wish  for  such  knowledge  without  the 
power  of  attaining  it,  if  the  needful  help  be  given  them. 
And  yet,  in  the  usual  subjects  of  education,  nothing 
addresses  itself  to  this  desire,  and  so  there  is  not  only  a 
neglect  of  the  teaching  of  the  peculiar  modes  of  reason- 
ing required,  or  admitted,  in  physiological  research ;  but 


1 70  DR.   PAGET 

the  natural  love  and  capacity  for  studying  design  are 
left  to  spend  themselves,  untrained,  upon  unworthy 
objects;  and  so  they  fade  or  degenerate — degenerate, 
perhaps,  into  some  such  baseness  as  an  impertinent 
curiosity  about  other  men's  matters. 

I  would  therefore  have  physiology  taught  to  all,  as 
a  study  of  God's  designs  and  purposes  achieved  ;  as  a 
science  for  which  our  natural  desire  after  the  knowledge 
of  final  causes  seems  to  have  been  destined ;  a  science 
in  which  that  desire,  though  it  were  infinite,  might  be 
satisfied ;  and  in  which,  as  with  perfect  models  of  bene- 
ficence and  wisdom,  our  own  faculties  of  design  may  be 
instructed.  I  would  not  have  its  teaching  limited  to  a 
bare  declaration  of  the  use  and  exact  fitness  of  each 
part  or  organ  of  the  body.  This,  indeed,  should  not 
be  omitted ;  for  there  are  noble  truths  in  the  simplest 
demonstrations  of  the  fitness  of  parts  for  their  simplest 
purposes,  and  no  study  has  been  made  more  attractive 
than  this  by  the  ingenuity,  the  acuteness,  and  eloquence 
of  its  teachers.  But  I  would  go  beyond  this,  and, 
striving,  as  I  said  before,  to  teach  general  truths  as  well 
as  the  details  of  science,  I  would  try  to  lead  the  mind 
to  the  contemplation  of  those  general  designs,  from 
which  it  might  gather  the  best  lessons  for  its  own 
guidance. 

If  I  may  presume  to  speak  as  I  would  to  boys  or 
girls,  I  would  say,  let  us  learn  frugality  from  some  of 
the  designs  that  we  can  study  in  the  living  body ;  and 
surely  the  lesson  may  be  the  more  impressive,  if  wc 
remember  that  we  are  studying  the  frugality  of  One 
whose  power  and  materials  are  infinite. 

Obser\'e,  for  example,  what  happens  during  active 
exercise;  how  the  heart  beats  quicker  and  harder  than 


ON   THE   STUDY  OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  171 

it  did  before,  and  the  skin  grows  warmer  and  ruddier, 
and  the  blood  moves  faster,  and  the  breathing  is  quicker. 
Ihe  main  design  of  this  seems  to  be  that  the  active 
muscles  may  be  the  more  abundantly  supplied  with 
blood.  But  the  beginning  in  the  series  of  changes  is  an 
instance  of  that  designed  frugality  of  which  I  have  been 
speaking  Veins,  carrying  blood  to  the  heart,  lie.  as  you 
see,  branching  and  communicating  under  the  skin ;  and 
there  are  others,  like  them,  deeper  set  among  the  muscles 
of  both  the  limbs  and  the  trunk.  Now,  muscles,  when 
they  act,  shorten  and  swell  up ;  and  in  so  doing  (as  in 
active  exercise),  they  compress  the  veins  that  lie  be- 
tween them,  or  upon  them  underneath  the  skin.  The 
effect  of  such  compression  must  be  to  press  the  blood 
in  every  vein,  equally  in  both  directions, — both  onwards 
towards  the  heart,  and  backwards  from  it.  All  that 
part  of  this  pressure  which  is  effective  in  propelling  the 
blood  towards  the  heart  is  so  much  added  to  the  forces 
of  the  circulation ;  it  is  so  much  direct  gain  of  force. 
But  it  may  seem  as  if  this  gain  were  balanced  by  an 
equal  loss,  through  the  influence  of  the  same  pressure 
driving  other  portions  of  the  blood  backwards.  And  so 
it  would  be,  but  for  the  arrangement  of  valves  in  the 
veins,  which  are  the  instruments  of  this  saving  of  force. 
Wherever  there  are  muscles  that  in  their  action  can 
compress  the  veins,  there  also  the  veins  have  valves; 
and  a  diagram  and  a  model  would  show  that  these  are 
Httle  pocket-shaped  membranes,  which  project  into  the 
canals  of  the  veins,  in  such  a  manner  that  they  will 
allow  the  streams  of  blood  to  pass  onwards  to  the  heart, 
but  will  close  at  once  and  hinder  any  stream  that  would 
flow  backwards.  Thus,  therefore,  the  effect  of  muscular 
pressure  on  the  veins  is  (let  us  say),  with  a  certain  forces 


172  DR.  PAGET 

to  propel  some  blood  towards  the  heart,  and  with  the 
same  force  to  press  back  other  blood  upon  the  valves 
and  close  them.  You  will  say,  then,  here  is  still  the 
same  hindrance :  if  the  valves  be  closed,  the  stream 
behind  them  must  be  stopped,  and  there  is  as  much  loss 
as  gain.  It  would  be  so,  if  there  were  not  this  other 
provision  ;  that  wherever  there  can  be  muscular  pressure 
upon  veins,  those  veins  not  only  have  valves,  but  have 
abundant  channels  of  communication  with  one  another. 
The  back-pressure  of  the  blood,  and  the  closure  of  the 
valves,  is  therefore  no  hindrance  to  the  circulation ;  for 
the  blood,  that  might  be  stopped  in  one  vein,  makes 
its  way  at  once  into  another  by  some  communicating 
branch.  The  general  result,  therefore,  is,  that  all  mus- 
cular pressure  upon  veins  is  an  almost  unalloyed  advan- 
tage to  the  circulation.  And  now  mark  the  frugality  of 
the  design.  Veins  mtist  lie  in  or  near  these  places,  and 
the  muscles  must  act  (suppose  for  some  design  of  our 
own)  ;  and  if  they  are  to  be  in  very  active  exercise,  they 
will  need  swifter  streams  of  blood  than  will  suffice  in 
their  repose.  The  streams  could  be  made  swifter  by  a 
greater  force  of  the  heart ;  but  heart-force  is  a  thing  to 
be  economized ;  and  the  muscles  themselves  may,  with- 
out harm,  contribute  to  accelerate  the  blood  ;  for  in  the 
fulfilment  of  their  primary  purpose,  of  moving  and  sus- 
taining the  limbs  and  trunk,  they  must  swell  up,  and 
compress  the  veins  that  are  about  them ;  and  this  com- 
pression can  be  made  effective  for  the  circulation  of  the 
blood  by  the  mechanism  of  valves.  So  then,  in  the 
necessary  fulfilment  of  their  primary  use,  and  without 
the  least  hindrance  or  damage  to  it,  the  muscles  are 
made  to  serve  this  secondary  purpose  ;  and  all  that  they 
do  herein  is  so  much  saved  to  the  forces  of  the  heart 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  PHYSIOLOGY.  173 

Scarcely  a  lesson  in  physiology  could  be  given  but  it 
might  illustrate  some  such  design  as  this.  Everywhere 
we  see  examples  of  parts  thus  made  to  serve  bye-pur- 
poses while  fulfilling  their  primary  designs. 

I  will  mention  but  one  more.  All  know  that  the  air 
we  have  once  breathed  is  less  fit  for  breathing  than  it 
was  before,  and  that  if  we  breathe  the  same  air  often  it 
becomes  poisonous,  through  the  mixture  of  the  carbonic 
acid  and  other  exhalations  from  the  lungs.  We  must 
breathe  out  the  air,  therefore,  as  so  much  refuse ;  and 
ample  provision  is  made  that  we  may  do  so ;  and  it 
might  seem  design  enough  fulfilled  when  we  are  thus 
freed  from  our  own  poison.  But  is  it  not  an  admirable 
secondary  design,  an  admirable  frugality,  a  true  wisdom 
by  the  way,  that,  with  this  same  air,  we  speak ;  that 
this,  which  we  must  cast  out  lest  it  destroy  us,  should 
be  used  for  one  of  the  noblest  powers  of  man  ?  Surely, 
one  might  have  supposed,  for  so  great  a  purpose  as 
the  communion  of  human  thoughts,  and  for  all  that 
speech  and  vocal  melody  can  achieve,  there  would 
be  contrived  some  matchless  instrument,  some  rare 
material.  But  no :  the  instruments  of  human  speech 
are  scarcely  more  complex  organs  than  those  which 
dumb  creatures  have  to  breathe  and  feed  with ;  and 
the  material  for  human  speech  carries  out  the  refuse 
of  blood ;  the  very  dross  of  the  body  is  used  for  the 
coinage  of  the  mind. 

Such  might  be  some  lessons  in  that  Divine  frugality 
which  is  ever  "  gathering  up  the  fragments  that  remain, 
that  nothing  be  lost."  The  moral  of  such  lessons  is  very 
plain. 

Not  less  significant  are  those  which  may  be  studied  in 
the  designs  of  the  body  during  its  development.     All 


174  DR.  PAGET 

these  are  instances  of  present  things  having  their  true 
purpose  in  some  future  state. 

Let  me  endeavour  to  illustrate  some  of  them. 

I  have  here  models  of  the  changes  that  the  chick 
undergoes  in  its  development;  and  what  they  show 
might  suffice  for  teaching  the  development  of  higher 
creatures.  Now,  nearly  all  we  see  here  is  the  working 
out  of  a  design,  which  cannot  have  its  full  end  till  some 
future  time.  These  wings  and  legs — of  what  avail  are 
they  to  the  prisoner  in  the  shell  ?  Their  purpose  is  not 
yet  fulfilled  ;  they  are  for  the  future.  But  if  these  be 
too  plain  to  be  impressive,  let  us  look  at  more  particular 
things. 

Observe  the  changes  through  which  the  heart  passes, 
from  its  first  appearance  as  a  little  pulsating  bag,  to 
its  being  nearly  fit  for  the  time  when  the  hatched  bird 
will  breathe  in  the  open  air.  The  changes  are  not 
merely  a  growth  from  a  little  heart  to  a  big  one ;  but 
are  a  series  of  acquirements  of  more  complex  .shapes; 
so  that  the  heart,  which  at  first  is  a  simple  bag,  then 
becomes  very  curved,  and  then  divides  into  two,  and 
then  into  three  and  four,  cavities.  Now,  doubtless,  in 
each  of  these  conditions,  the  heart  is  exactly  appropriate 
to  the  contemporary  state  of  the  other  organs,  and  the 
circumstances  of  the  time  of  life;  but  each  of  them  is, 
besides,  a  necessary  stage  of  transition  towards  that 
more  perfect  state,  that  fitness  for  more  complex  dutiesi, 
which  the  heart  attains  when  the  bird  is  bom  to  breathe 
with  lungs  in  the  open  air. 

But  I  would  descend  yet  lower,  and,  magnifying  the 
wonders  of  these  plans  for  the  future,  by  diminishing 
(as  it  may  seem  to  some)  the  importance  of  the  objects 
in  which  they  arc  displayed,  would  trace  the  develop- 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   PHYSIOLOGY. 


175 


ment  of  a  single  blood-cell  in  a  tadpole — i.  e.  in  the 
young  fish-like  embryo  of  a  frog,  such  as  nearly  every 
pool  would  supply  in  the  spring-time,  and  such  as 
magnified  sketches  would  fully  illustrate. 

By  a  blood-cell,  I  mean  one  of  those  microscopic 
particles  by  which  the  blood  is  coloured  red  :  particles 
so  minute  that,  in  our  own  blood,  about  ten  millions 
might  lie  on  a  square  inch  of  surface. 

In  the  earliest  period  of  active  life  of  these  tadpoles, 
the  little  black  and  fish-like  body  is  composed  almost 
wholly  of  minute  cells ;  among  which  you  can  trace, 
with  even  powerful  microscopes,  scarce  any  difference. 
You  could  not  tell  the  future  destiny  of  any  of  them  by 
their  present  characters ;  they  look  all  alike.  But  pre- 
sently, as  they  increase  in  number,  a  differencing  begins 
among  them,  and  a  sorting  of  them  ;  and  some  arrange 
themselves  for  a  spinal  column,  and  some  for  muscles ; 
and  some  are  seen  to  be  placed  where  the  first  streams 
of  blood  are  to  run ;  and  some  are  clustered  where  the 
heart  will  be.  At  first,  those  that  are  to  be  blood-cells 
afe  round,  and  darkly  shaded,  and  contain  yellowish 
particles,  many  of  which  are  like  four-sided  crystals  of 
some  fatty  substance.  But,  in  a  day  or  two,  the  cells 
begin  to  move  and  circulate  in  the  channels  in  which 
they  were  arranged ;  and  then,  as  we  watch  them  day 
by  day,  they,  gradually  change.  The  particles  within 
them  become  smaller  and  less  numerous,  and  collect 
near  to  their  borders;  while  their  centres,  clearing  up, 
show  an  enclosed  smaller  body  or  nucleus.  Moreover, 
as  these  changes  proceed,  the  cells  which  were  before 
colourless,  acquire  gradually  a  deeper  and  deeper  blood- 
tint,  and  exchange  their  round  for  an  oval  shape;  till,  by 
the  time  that  all  the  particles  they  first  contained  are 


lyb  DR.   PAGET 

cleared  away,  as  if  by  solution,  they  have  become  per 
feet  blood-cells,  nearly  like  those  which  colour  the  blood 
of  the  completely  developed  frog. 

The  time  required  for  these  changes  depends  much  on 
the  temperature  and  degree  of  light  to  which  the  crea- 
ture is  exposed.  It  may  vary  from  one  to  three  or  more 
weeks  ;  and  we  can  thus  deliberately  watch  the  develop- 
ment of  a  blood-cell,  day  by  day,  until  it  reaches  that 
which  we  may  call  its  perfection.  In  this  state  the  cells 
abide  for  a  time,  unchanging  ;  and  then  decline  and  give 
place  to  another  set  of  blood-cells,  each  of  which  is 
developed  through  a  series  of  changes  different,  indeed, 
from  those  that  I  have  described,  but  not  less  numerous 
or  complex. 

Now,  such  is  the  life,  up  to  the  period  of  perfection, 
of  every  blood-cell  in  this  trivial  creature.  And  so  it  is 
in  ourselves.  Of  the  millions  of  those  cells  that  colour 
our  blood,  not  one  reaches  its  perfection  but  through 
changes  as  numerous  and  great  as  these. 

Perhaps  the  wonder  is  augmented  if  we  think  that,  in 
the  embr>'0,  the  changes  proceed,  with  equal  steps,  in  all 
the  cells  at  once  :  there  is  exact  concert  among  them  ;  if 
I  may  so  speak,  they  all  keep  time.  Nor  is  the  harmony 
limited  to  them ;  for  their  development  is  exactly  ad- 
justed to  that  of  every  other  part :  successive  changes 
are  exactly  concurrent  in  every  part  at  once;  so  that, 
though  all  are  continually  changing,  they  never  lose 
their  mutual  fitness. 

I  might  cite  more  instances  of  these  plans  for  futurity ; 
but  they  are  nearly  infinite ;  for  in  truth,  (and  what  a 
moral  there  is  in  such  a  truth  !)  in  the  living  world, 
nothing  is  made  at  once  fit  for  the  highest  purposes  of 
which  it  may  be  capable.    In  all  the  countless  crowds  of 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  PHYSIOLOGY.  T77 

living  beings, — in  all  the  countless  particles  of  each, — 
there  is  not  one  but  in  the  history  of  its  life  we  may  read 
a  gradual  attainment  of  its  highest  destiny ;  not  one  but 
has  a  time  in  which  its  true  purpose  is  yet  future,  its  tnie 
design  yet  unfulfilled;  and,  although,  even  in  its  rudi- 
ment, it  is  not  useless,  yet  there  will  be  a  time  when, 
with  higher  powers,  it  will  take  part  in  the  designs  of 
some  more  perfect  state.  So  wide  is  that  law,  which 
has  its  highest  instance  in  the  history  and  future  destiny 
of  man  himself. 

But  the  evidence  of  the  design  of  living  bodies  for 
conditions  that  are  yet  future,  seems  to  culminate  in  the 
proofs  of  their  capacity  to  repair  injuries,  and  to  recover 
from  diseases. 

It  is  surely  only  because  it  is  so  familiar,  that  we 
think  lightly,  if  at  all,  of  the  fact  that  living  bodies  are 
capable  of  repairing  most  of  the  injuries  they  may 
sustain ;  and  that,  in  this  capacity,  they  show  that  pro- 
vision has  been  made,  in  them,  for  events  of  which  it  is 
not  certain  whether  they  will  ever  occur  to  them  or 
nfot.  When  we  contemplate  the  perfect  living  body,  the 
exact  fitness  of  every  part  for  its  office,  not  as  an  in- 
dependent agent,  but  as  one  whose  work  must  be  done 
in  due  proportion  with  that  of  many  others,  is  a  very 
marvellous  thing ;  but  it  seems  much  more  marvellous 
that,  in  the  embryo,  each  of  these  parts  was  made  fit  for 
offices  and  relations  that  were  then  future :  but  surely 
mgre  marvellous  than  all  it  is,  that  each  of  these,  when 
perfect,  should  still  have  capacity  for  right  action  in 
events  that  are  not  only  future,  but  unlikely;  that  are 
indeed  possible,  but  are  in  only  so  low  a  degree  probable, 
that  if  ever  they  happen,  they  will  be  called  accidents — 
as  things  not  to  be  expected  or  provided  for. 


178  DR.   PAGET 

Let  me  describe  a  process  of  repair,  and  describe  it  so 
simply,  as  it  might  be  to  school-boys. 

All  know,  or  can  feel,  their  Achilles-tendons  behind 
their  ancles,  and  that  these,  strong  as  they  are,  are 
sometimes  broken  by  a  violent  contraction  of  their 
muscles.  I  know  not  how  small — how  almost  infinitely 
small — the  chance  is,  thixt  any  given  man,  or  quadruped, 
would  ever  break  this  or  any  other  part ;  but,  small  as 
the  chance  may  be,  ample  provision  is  made  for  its 
repair.  How  this  is  accomplished  may  be  again  illus- 
trated by  diagrams. 

When  the  tendon  in  such  an  animal  as  a  rabbit  is 
divided,  its  pieces  separate  to  nearly  an  inch  apart,  the 
upper  piece  being  drawn  up  by  the  unrestricted  action 
of  its  muscles.  The  muscles,  no  longer  fastened  by  the 
tendon  to  the  heel-bone,  are  thus  rendered  useless ;  and 
the  object  of  the  reparative  process  must  be  to  form  a 
bond  of  connexion  between  the  separated  pieces  of  the 
tendon. 

In  the  two  days  following  such  an  injury,  all  tlie 
structures  between  and  around  the  ends  of  the  divided 
tendon  appear  soaked  with  a  half-liquid  substance,  the 
product  of  inflammation.  And  thus  far  we  see  no  plan 
for  uniting  the  separated  pieces ;  there  is  no  more  of 
this  new  substance  in  the  line  between  them  than  there 
is  around  them  ;  and  all  the  new  substance  appears  alike. 
But  in  the  course  of  two  days  more,  we  find  that  fresh 
material  is  deposited  between  the  separated  pieces  of 
the  tendons,  and  that  it  is  firmer  than  that  around,  and 
has  firm  hold  on  the  ends  of  the  separated  pieces,  and 
connects  them,  though  as  yet  (if  I  may  so  say)  only 
dum  ily.  After  this,  however,  each  day  finds  the  con- 
necting substance  becoming  firmer,  tougher,  and  more 


ON   THE  STUDY   OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  179 

like  the  texture  of  the  tendon  itself.  Each  day,  too,  it 
becomes  more  defined  from  the  surrounding  parts ;  ana 
this  it  does,  not  only  because  itself  becomes  more  exactly 
shaped,  but  because  they  regain  their  natural  texture. 
And  observe  the  distinct  design  which  is  shown  in  this 
contrast.  At  first,  all  the  parts  at  and  about  the  seat  of 
injury  were  soaked  with  a  similar  material ;  but  now, 
that  portion  of  this  material  which  lay  in  the  place  for 
the  formation  of  the  connecting  bond,  has  remained  and 
contributed  to  the  repair ;  but  that  portion  of  it  which 
was  more  remote,  and  could  serve  no  useful  purpose,  has 
been  cleared  away. 

At  the  end  of  a  week,  in  the  rabbit,  a  complete  cord- 
like bond  of  union  is  formed,  and  the  muscles  can  act 
again.  By  this  time,  too,  the  bond  has  gained  nearly 
the  perfect  texture  and  the  toughness  of  the  original 
tendon.  I  once  tried  the  strength  of  such  a  bond  of 
connexion,  which  had  been  forming  for  ten  days  after 
the  division  of  the  Achilles-tendon  of  a  young  rabbit. 
Having  removed  it  from  the  dead  body,  I  suspended 
weights  upon  it,  and,  after  bearing  weights  of  twenty, 
thirty,  forty,  and  fifty  pounds,  it  was  at  length  broken 
by  a  weight  of  fifty-six  pounds.  But  surely  the  strength 
it  showed  was  very  wonderful,  if  we  remember  that  it 
was  not  more  than  the  sixth  of  an  inch  in  its  greatest 
thickness,  and  that  it  was  wholly  formed  in  ten  days, 
in  the  leg  of  a  rabbit  scarcely  more  than  a  pound  in 
weight. 

I  might  illustrate  the  process  of  repair  by  instances 
as  perfect  as  these,  observed  after  injuries  of  many, 
almost  of  any,  parts.  And  I  might,  as  in  the  instance 
of  development,  magnify  its  excellence  by  showing  it 
in  what  we  are  apt  to  call  trivial  creatures,  or  even  by 


l80  DR.   PAGET 

sliowing  that,  in  general,  those  lower  species  of  animals 
that  have  the  least  means  of  escape  or  defence  from 
mutilation,  appear  to  be  endowed  with  the  most  ample 
powers  of  repair.  But  time  will  not  permit  this,  nor  yet 
that  I  should  show  how  many  lessons  of  practical 'Utility 
might  be  engrafted  on  the  teaching  of  a  process  such  as 
this,  or  how  the  main  principles  of  the  surgery  of  injuries 
are  based  on  the  recognition  of  the  natural  power  of 
recovery.  Nearly  its  whole  practice  consists  in  the 
prevention  of  any  interference  with  that  to  which  there 
is,  in  the  very  nature  of  the  body,  as  great  a  tendency, 
as  there  is  for  the  embryo  to  be  developed  into  the 
perfect  creature.  Using  the  facts  of  the  reparative 
process  only  for  the  present  purpose  of  showing  how 
physiology  might  be  taught  as  the  chief  science  of 
designs,  I  would  say  that  the  arguments  of  design,  which 
are  here  displayed,  are  such  as  cannot  be  impugned  by 
the  suspicion,  that  the  events  among  which  each  living 
thing  is  cast  have  determined  its  adaptation  to  them ; 
because  the  adaptations  here  noted  prove  capacities  for 
things  that  are  future,  and  only  not  impossible. 

I  will  mention  but  one  more  instance  of  general 
design,  which  I  think  should  not  be  omitted  in  the 
teaching  of  physiology  to  whatever  class  of  students — 
that,  namely,  of  the  adaptation  of  animals  in  their 
decay ;  how,  as  they  do  not  live,  so  neither  do  they 
decay  or  die,  for  themselves  alone,  but  ministering  to 
others'  good. 

The  chief  evidence  of  this  is  in  the  provision,  that 
the  decaying  parts  of  animals  yield  the  materials  from 
which  the  vegetable  kingdom  derives  its  chief  supply 
of  food.  In  the  ordinary  decomposition  of  the  dead 
body,  many  of  the  products  are  the  very  materials  from 


ON   THE   STUDY  OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  i8l 

which,  as  they  are  mingled  with  the  earth  and  atmo- 
sphere, each  plant  takes  its  food.  But  it  is  not  alone 
through  this  decay  in  death,  that  animals  restore  to  the 
vegetable  world  the  materials  which  they  have,  for  their 
own  food,  derived  from  it.  The  same  rule  is  fulfilled  in 
the  decay  of  life,  i.e.  in  those  changes  which  occur  when 
the  particles  of  the  animal  body,  having  served  their 
purpose,  or  lived  their  full  time  in  it,  are  then  to  be  cast 
out  as  refuse.  For  in  all  these  changes,  which  are  a 
part  of  that  constant  mutation  of  particles  through 
which  the  body  remains,  tnrough  all  the  time  of  vigorous 
life,  the  same,  though  continually  changing, — in  all  these, 
the  material  which  is  passing  out,  as  refuse,  gradually 
approximates,  in  its  transition,  to  the  inorganic  state  of 
matter.  It  is  so  with  the  carbonic  acid  and  other  ex- 
halations from  the  lungs  and  skin,  and  with  all  the 
class  of  substances  excreted.  And  thus,  every  form  of 
degeneration  or  decay,  whether  in  life  or  after  death, 
may  be  described  as  a  series  of  changes,  through  which 
the  elements  of  organic  bodies,  instead  of  being  on  a 
sudden  and  with  violence  dispersed,  are  gradually  col- 
lected into  those  lower  combinations  in  which  they  may 
best  rejoin  the  inorganic  world  :  they  are  such  changes, 
that  every  creature  may  be  said  to  decay  and  die  and 
cast  cut  its  refuse  in  the  form  which  may  best  fit  it  to 
discharge  its  share  in  the  economy  of  the  world, — either 
by  supplying  nutriment  to  other  organisms,  or  by  taking 
its  right  part  in  the  adjustment  of  the  balance  held  be- 
tween the  organic  and  inorganic  masses. 

I  have  thus  endeavoured  to  fulfil  my  office,  and  to 
show  how  the  general  teaching  of  physiology  might  do 
good  among  its  students.  I  think  its  advantages  are 
such  as  might  be  apprehended  by  students  of  all  classes 


1 82  DR.   PAGET 

in  society.  I  suppose,  too,  that,  for  all  that  part  of  it 
^vhich  can  be  applied  in  the  maintenance  of  health  the 
merit  of  utility  would  be  admitted ;  and  that,  in  general 
terms,  it  would  be  allowed  that  the  study  of  designs  and 
final  causes  should  be  mingled  with  other  studies  in  any 
scheme  of  education  by  which  it  is  proposed  that  the 
whole  mind  should  be  disciplined,  and  all  modes  of 
reasoning  should  be  taught. 

But  still,  the  question  may  be  asked,  Is  it  possible 
that  knowledge  such  as  this,  of  the  methods  of  design, 
will  rest,  with  any  influence,  in  a  mind  that  must  be 
engrossed  in  urgent  business,  or  in  household  cares; 
Harassed,  perhaps,  in  struggles  against  poverty,  or  dis- 
sipated in  the  luxuries  of  wealth  }  It  may  be  very  well 
(some  will  say)  to  teach  these  things  to  the  young,  but 
men  and  women  have  other  works  and  other  pleasures 
to  pursue. 

I  know  all  this;  and  I  have  overshot  my  mark  if  I 
have  urged  any  teaching  of  which  the  effects  would  in- 
terfere with  devotion  to  the  necessary  works  of  later 
life.  But  I  suppose  that,  if  any  one  will  watch  his 
thoughts  for  a  few  days,  or  even  a  few  hours,  he  will 
find  that,  however  engrossing  may  be  his  cares  or  his 
pleasures,  however  earnest  his  attention  to  what  seems 
his  most  urgent  need,  there  are  yet  intermingling  trains 
of  thought  quite  alien  from  these: — trains  into  which  the 
mind  falls,  it  knows  not  how,  but  in  which  it  will  wander 
as  if  resolute  to  refresh  itself  Now  these  must  be  pro- 
vided for;  and  so  it  must  be  an  object  of  all  education 
to  supply,  in  early  life,  those  studies  from  which,  in  later 
years,  may  arise  reflections  that  may  mingle  happily 
with  the  business-thoughts  of  common  days ;  that  may 
suggest  to  the  reason,  or  even  to  the  imagination,  some 


ON   THE  STUDY   OF   PHYSIOLOGY.  183 

hidden  meaning,  some  future  purpose,  some  noble  end, 
in  the  things  about  us.  Reflections  such  as  these,  being 
interwoven  with  our  common  thoughts,  may  often  brincr 
to  our  life  a  tone  of  joy,  which  its  general  aspect  would 
not  wear ;  like  brilliant  threads  shot  through  the  texture 
of  some  sombre  fabric,  giving  lustre  to  its  darkness. 

But  besides  this  happy  influence  of  the  general  im- 
pressions that  might  remain  in  the  mind  from  the  early 
teaching  of  physiology,  I  claim  for  it  the  hope  that  its 
principles  might  read  to  some  minds  lessons  of  the  truest 
wisdom. 

The  student  of  Nature's  purposes  should  surely  be 
averse  from  leading  a  purposeless  existence.  Watching 
design  in  everything  around  him,  he  could  not  fail,  one 
would  think,  to  reflect  often  on  the  purpose  of  his  own 
existence.  And  doing  so,  if  his  mind  were  imbued  with 
the  knowledge  of  the  mutual  fitness  in  which  all  the 
members  of  his  body,  and  all  the  parts  of  the  whole 
organic  world,  subsist,  and  minister  to  each  other's  good, 
he  could  not  conclude  that  he  exists  for  his  own  sake 
alone,  or  that  happiness  would  be  found  separate  from 
the  offices  of  mutual  help  and  of  universal  good-will. 
One  who  is  conversant  with  things  that  have  a  purpose 
in  the  future,  higher  than  that  which  they  have  yet  ful- 
filled, would  never  think  that  his  own  highest  destiny  is 
yet  achieved.  Though  his  place  among  men  might  be 
only  like  that  of  a  single  particle — like  that  of  a  single 
blood-cell  of  the  body — yet  would  he  strive  to  concur, 
and  take  his  share,  in  all  progressive  good.  Nor  would 
he  count  that,  with  this  life  ended,  his  purpose  would  be 
attained  ;  but  by  teaching,  or  by  record,  or  by  some 
other  of  those  means,  through  which,  in  the  history  of 
our  race,  things  that  in  their  rudiments  seemed  trivial 
13 


1 84      DR.  PAGET  ON   THE  STUDY  OF   PHYSIOLOGY. 

have  been  developed  into  great  results,  he  would  strive 
to  "  achieve  at  least  some  useful  work,  the  fruit  whereof 
might  abide."  Conscious  of  an  immortal  nature,  and 
of  desires  and  capacities  for  knowledge,  which  cannot 
be  satisfied  in  this  world,  he  would  be  sure  that  the 
great  law  of  progress,  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  state, 
would  not  be  abrogated  in  the  Divine  government  of 
that  part  of  him  which  cannot  perish,  and  is  not  yet 
perfect  In  him,  even  the  understanding  would  be 
assured  that,  '*  as  we  have  borne  the  image  of  the 
earthy,  we  shall  also  bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly ; " 
for  that  is  the  true  lesson  of  development. 

And  because  it  abounds  in  lessons  such  as  these,  I 
claim  for  physiology  the  pre-eminence  among  all  sci- 
ences, for  the  clear  and  full  analogies  which  it  displays 
between  truths  natural  and  revealed  :  and  I  would  teach 
it  everywhere ;  looking  to  its  help,  by  these  analogies, 
to  prove  the  concord  between  knowledge  and  belief, 
and  to  mediate  in  the  ever-pending  conflict  of  intellect 
and  faith. 


OBSERVATIONS    ON   THE    EDUCATION 
OF  THE  JUDGMENT. 

A  LECTURE  DELIVERED  AT  THE  ROYAL  INSTITUTION 
OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


BY 

PROFESSOR  FARADAY,  F.EJi 


ON  THE 

EDUCATION  OF  THE  JUDGMENT. 

1  TAKE  courage,  Sir*  from  your  presence  here  this  day, 
to  speak  boldly  that  which  is  upon  my  mind.  I  feared 
that  it  might  be  unpleasant  to  some  of  my  audience,  but 
as  I  know  that  your  Royal  Highness  is  a  champion  for 
and  desires  the  truth,  I  will  believe  that  all  here  are 
united  in  the  same  cause,  and  therefore  will  give  utter- 
ance, without  hesitation,  to  what  I  have  to  say  regarding 
the  present  condition  of  Mental  Education. 

If  the  term  education  may  be  understood  in  so  large 
a  sense  as  to  include  all  that  belongs  to  the  improvement 
of  the  mind,  either  by  the  acquisition  of  the  knowledge 
of  others,  or  by  increase  of  it  through  its  own  exertions, 
then  I  may  hope  to  be  justified  for  bringing  forward  a 
few  desultory  observations  respecting  the  exercise  of  the 
mental  powers  in  a  particular  direction,  which  otherwise 
might  seem  out  of  place.  The  points  I  have  in  view  are 
general,  but  they  are  manifest  in  a  striking  manner, 
among  the  physical  matters  which  have  occupied  my 
life  ;  and  as  the  latter  afford  a  field  for  exercise  in  which 
cogitations  and  conclusions  can  be  subjected  to  the  rigid 
tests  of  fact  and  experiment, — as  all  classes  employ 
themselves  more  or  less  in  the  consideration  of  physical 
matters,  and  may  do  so  with  great  advantage,  if  inclined 
in  the  least  degree  to  profit  by  educational  practices,  so 

•  Prince  Albert  occupied  the  chair. 


t88  PROFESSOR   FARADAY 

I  hope  that  what  I  may  say  will  find  its  application  in 
every  condition  of  life. 

Before  entering  upon  the  subject,  I  must  make  one 
distinction  which,  however  it  may  appear  to  others,  is  to 
me  of  the  utmost  importance.  High  as  man  is  placed 
above  the  creatures  around  him,  there  is  a  higher  and 
far  more  exalted  position  within  his  view  ;  and  the  ways 
aie  infinite  in  which  he  occupies  his  thoughts  about 
the  fears,  or  hopes,  or  expectations  of  a  future  life.  1 
believe  that  the  truth  of  that  future  cannot  be  brought 
to  his  knowledge  by  any  exertion  of  his  mental  powers, 
however  exalted  they  may  be  ;  that  it  is  made  known 
to  him  by  other  teaching  than  his  own,  and  is  received 
through  simple  belief  of  the  testimony  given.  Let  no 
one  suppose  for  a  moment  that  the  self-education  I  am 
about  to  commend  in  respect  of  the  things  of  this  life, 
extends  to  any  considerations  of  the  hope  set  before  us, 
as  if  man  by  reasoning  could  find  out  God.  It  would  be 
improper  here  to  enter  upon  this  subject  further  than 
to  claim  an  absolute  distinction  between  religious  and 
ordinary  belief  I  shall  be  reproached  with  the  weak- 
ness of  refusing  to  apply  those  mental  operations  which 
I  think  good  in  respect  of  high  things  to  the  very 
highest.  I  am  content  to  bear  the  reproach.  Yet,  even 
in  earthly  matters,  I  believe  that  the  invisible  things  of 
Him  from  the  creation  of  the  world  arc  clearly  seen, 
being  understood  by  the  things  that  are  made,  even  His 
eternal  power  and  Godhead ;  and  I  have  never  seen  any- 
thing incompatible  between  those  things  of  man  which 
can  be  known  by  the  spirit  of  man  which  is  within  him, 
and  those  higher  things  concerning  his  future  which  he 
cannot  know  by  that  spirit. 

Claiming,  then,  the  use  of  the  ordinary  faculties  of  the 


ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  JUDGMENT.    1 89 

mind  in  ordinary  things,  let  me  next  endeavour  to  point 
out  what  appears  to  me  to  be  a  great  deficiency  in  the 
exercise  of  the  mental  powers  in  every  direction :  three 
words  will  express  this  great  want,  deficiency  of  judgment. 
I  do  not  wish  to  make  any  startling  assertion,  but  I  know 
that  in  physical  matters  multitudes  are  ready  to  draw 
conclusions  who  have  little  or  no  power  of  judgment  in 
the  cases ;  that  the  same  is  true  of  other  departments  of 
knowledge ;  and  that,  generally,  mankind  is  willing  to 
leave  the  faculties  which  relate  to  judgment  almost 
entirely  uneducated,  and  their  decisions  at  the  mercy  of 
ignorance,  prepossessions,  the  passions,  or  even  accident. 

Do  Jiot  suppose,  because  I  stand  here  and  speak 
thus,  making  no  exceptions,  that  I  except  myself  I 
have  learned  to  know  that  I  fall  infinitely  short  of 
that  efficacious  exercise  of  the  judgment  which  may 
be  attained.  There  are  exceptions  to  my  general  con- 
clusion, numerous  and  high  ;  but  if  we  desire  to  know 
how  far  education  is  required,  we  do  not  consider  the 
ioMi  who  need  it  not,  but  the  many  who  have  it  not; 
and  in  respect  of  judgment,  the  number  of  the  latter 
is  almost  infinite.  I  am  moreover  persuaded,  that  the 
clear  and  powerful  minds  which  have  realized  in  some 
degree  the  intellectual  preparation  I  am  about  to  refer 
to,  will  admit  its  importance,  and  indeed  its  necessity , 
and  that  they  will  not  except  themselves,  nor  think  thar 
I  have  made  my  statement  too  extensive. 

As  I  believe  that  a  very  large  proportion  of  the  errors 
we  make  in  judgment  is  a  simple  and  direct  result  of 
our  perfectly  unconscious  state,  and  think  that  a  demon- 
stration of  the  liabilities  we  are  subject  to  would  aid 
greatly  in  providing  a  remedy,  I  will  proceed  jQrst  to  a 
i^^N  illustrations  of  a  physical   nature.      Nothing  can 


I 


190  PROFESSOR  FARADAY 

better  supply  them  than  the  intimations  we  derive  from 
our  senses :  to  them  we  trust  directly ;  by  them  we 
become  acquainted  with  external  things,  and  gain  the 
power  of  increasing  and  varying  facts  upon  which  we 
entirely  depend.  Our  sense  perceptions  are  wonderful 
Even  in  the  observant,  but  unreflective  infant,  they  soon 
produce  a  result  which  looks  like  intuition,  because  of 
its  perfection.  Coming  to  the  mind  as  so  many  data, 
they  are  stored  up,  and,  without  our  being  conscious  of 
it,  are  ever  after  used  in  like  circumstances  in  forming 
our  judgment ;  and  it  is  not  wonderful  that  man  is 
accustomed  to  trust  them  without  examination.  Never- 
theless, the  result  is  the  effect  of  education :  the  mind 
has  to  be  instructed  with  regard  to  the  senses  and  their 
intimations  through  every  step  of  life ;  and  where  the 
instruction  is  imperfect,  it  is  astonishing  how  soon  and 
how  much  their  evidence  fails  us.  Yet,  in  the  latter 
years  of  life,  we  do  not  consider  this  matter,  but,  having 
obtained  the  ordinary  teaching  sufficient  for  ordinary 
purposes,  we  venture  to  judge  of  things  which  are 
extraordinar>'  for  the  time,  and  almost  always  with  the 
more  assurance  as  our  powers  of  observation  are  less 
educated.  Consider  the  following  case  of  a  physical 
impression,  derived  from  the  sense  of  touch,  which  can 
be  examined  and  verified  at  pleasure : — If  the  hands  be 
brought  towards  each  other  so  that  the  tips  of  the 
corresponding  fingers  touch,  the  end  of  any  finger  may 
be  considered  as  an  object  to  be  felt  by  the  opposed 
finger;  thus,  the  two  middle  fingers  may  for  the  present 
be  so  viewed.  If  the  attention  be  directed  to  them,  no 
difficulty  will  be  experienced  in  moving  each  lightly  in  a 
circle  round  the  tip  of  the  other,  so  that  they  shall  each 
feel  the  opDosite,  and  the  motion  may  be  either  in  one 


ON   THE   EDUCATION   OF   THE  JUDGMENT.         I9I 

direction  or  the  other — looking  at  the  fingers,  or  with 
eyes  employed  elsewhere — or  with  the  remaining  fingers 
touching  quiescently,  or  moving  in  a  like  direction ;  ail 
is  easy,  because  each  finger  is  employed  in  the  ordinary 
or  educated  manner  whilst  obeying  the  will,  and  whilst 
communicating  through  the  sentient  organ  with  the 
brain.  But  turn  the  hands  half  way  round,  so  that  their 
backs  shall  be  towards  each  other,  and  then,  crossing 
them  at  the  wrists,  again  bring  the  like  fingers  into 
contact  at  the  tips.  If  it  be  now  desired  to  move  the 
extremities  of  the  middle  fingers  round  each  other,  or 
to  follow  the  contour  of  one  finger  by  the  tip  of  the 
opposed  one,  all  sorts  of  confusion  in  the  motion  will 
ensue ;  and  as  the  finger  of  one  hand  tries,  under  the 
instruction  of  the  will,  to  move  in  one  course,  the 
touched  finger  will  convey  an  intimation  that  it  is 
moving  in  another.  If  all  the  fingers  move  at  once,  all 
will  be  in  confusion,  the  ease  and  simplicity  of  the  first 
case  having  entirely  disappeared.  If,  after  some  con- 
siderable trial,  familiarity  with  the  new  circumstances 
have  removed  part  of  the  uncertainty,  then,  crossing  the 
hands  at  the  opposite  sides  of  the  wrists  will  renew  it. 
These  contrary  results  are  dependent  not  on  any  change 
in  the  nature  of  the  sentient  indication,  or  of  the  surfaces 
or  substances  which  the  sense  has  to  deal  with,  but  upon 
the  trifling  circumstance  of  a  little  variation  from  the 
direction  in  which  the  sentient  organs  of  these  parts  are 
usually  exerted,  and  they  show  to  what  an  extraordinar}' 
extent  our  interpretations  of  the  sense  impressions 
depend  upon  the  experience,  i.e.  the  education  which 
they  have  previously  received,  and  their  great  inability 
to  aid  us  at  once  in  circumstances  which  are  entirely 
new. 


192  PROFESSOR  FARADAY 

At  other  times  they  fail  us  because  we  cannot  keep 
a  true  remembrance  of  forn.er  impresssions.  Thus,  on 
the  evening  of  the  eleventh  of  March  last,  I  and  many 
ethers  were  persuaded  that  at  one  period  the  moon  had 
a  real  green  colour,  and  though  I  knew  that  the  pre- 
vailing red  tints  of  the  general  sky  were  competent  to 
produce  an  effect  of  such  a  kind,  yet  there  was  so  little 
of  that  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  planet,  that  I  was 
doubtful  whether  the  green  tint  was  not  produced  on 
the  moon  by  some  aerial  medium  spread  before  it,  until, 
by  holding  up  white  cards  in  a  proper  position,  and 
comparing  them  with  our  satellite,  I  had  determined 
experimentally  that  the  effect  was  only  one  of  contrast. 
In  the  midst  of  the  surrounding  tints,  my  memory  could 
not  recall  the  true  sentient  impression  which  the  white  of 
the  moon  most  surely  had  before  made  upon  the  eye. 

At  other  times  the  failure  is  because  one  impression 
is  overpowered  by  another ;  for  as  the  morning  star 
disappears  when  the  sun  is  risen,  though  still  above 
the  horizon  and  shining  brightly  as  ever,  so  do  stronger 
phenomena  obscure  weaker,  even  when  both  are  of  the 
same  kind  ;  till  an  uninstructed  person  is  apt  to  pass 
the  weaker  unobserved,  and  even  deny  their  existence. 

So,  error  results  occasionally  from  believing  our 
senses  :  it  ought  to  be  considered,  rather,  as  an  error 
of  the  Judgment  than  of  the  sense,  for  the  latter  has  per- 
formed its  duty  ;  the  indication  is  always  correct,  and  in 
harmony  with  the  great  truth  of  nature.  Where,  then, 
is  the  mistake  ^ — almost  entirely  with  our  judgment 
We  have  not  had  that  sufficient  instruction  by  the 
senses  which  would  justify  our  making  a  conclusion; 
we  have  to  contrive  extra  and  special  means,  by  which 
their  first  impressions  shall  be  corrected,  or  rather  en* 


ON   THE   EDUCATION   OF  THE  JUDGMENT.         1 93 

larged  ;  and  it  is  because  our  procedure  was  hasty,  our 
data  too  few,  and  our  judgment  untaught,  that  we  fell 
into  mistake ;  not  because  the  data  were  wrong.  How 
frequently  may  each  one  of  us  perceive,  in  our  neigh- 
bours, at  least,  that  a  result  like  this  derived  from  the 
observation  of  physical  things,  happens  in  the  ordinary 
affairs  of  common  life. 

When  I  become  convicted  of  such  haste,  which  is  not 
unfrequently  the  case,  I  look  back  upon  the  error  as 
one  of  "presumptuous  judgment."  Under  that  form 
it  is  easily  presentable  to  the  mind,  and  has  a  useful 
corrective  action.  I  do  not  think  the  expression  too 
strong ;  for  if  we  are  led,  either  by  simplicity  or  vanity, 
to  give  an  opinion  upon  matters  respecting  which  we  are 
not  instructed,  either  by  the  knowledge  of  others,  or  our 
own  intimate  observation  ;  if  we  are  induced  to  ascribe 
an  effect  to  one  force,  or  deny  its  relation  to  another, 
knowing  little  or  nothing  of  the  laws  of  the  forces,  or 
the -necessary  conditions  of  the  effect  to  be  considered  ; 
surely  our  judgment  must  be  qualified  as  "presump- 
tuous." 

There  are  multitudes  who  think  themselves  competent 
to  decide,  after  the  most  cursory  observation,  upon  the 
cause  of  this  or  that  event  (and  they  may  be  really  very 
acute  and  correct  in  things  familiar  to  them) : — a  not 
unusual  phrase  with  them  is,  that  "it  stands  to  reason," 
that  the  effect  they  expect  should  result  from  the  cause 
they  assign  to  it,  and  yet  it  is  very  diffiadt,  in  numerous 
cases  that  appear  plain,  to  show  this  reason,  or  to  deduce 
the  true  and  only  rational  relation  of  cause  and  effect. 
In  matters  connected  with  natural  philosophy,  we  have 
wonderful  aid  in  the  progress  and  assurance  in  the 
character,  of  our  final  judgment,  afforded  us  by  the  facts 


194  PROFESSOR  FARADAY 

«vhich  supply  our  data,  and  the  experience  which  mul- 
tiplies their  number  and  varies  their  testimony.  A 
fundamental  fact,  like  an  elementary  principle,  never 
fails  us,  its  evidence  is  always  true ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  frequently  have  to  ask  what  is  the  fact  ? — often 
fail  in  distinguishing  it, — often  fail  in  the  very  state- 
ment of  it, — and  mostly  overpass  or  come  short  of  its 
true  recognition. 

If  we  are  subject  to  mistake  in  the  interpretation  of 
our  mere  sense  impressions,  we  are  much  more  liable  to 
error  when  we  proceed  to  deduce  from  these  impressions 
(as  supplied  to  us  by  our  ordinary  experience),  the 
relation  of  cause  and  effect ;  and  the  accuracy  of  our 
judgment,  consequently,  is  more  endangered.  Then  our 
dependence  should  be  upon  carefully  observed  facts,  and 
the  laws  of  nature  ;  and  I  shall  proceed  to  a  further 
illustration  of  the  mental  deficiency  I  speak  of,  by  a 
brief  reference  to  one  of  these. 

The  laws  of  nature,  as  we  understand  them,  are  the 
foundation  of  our  knowledge  in  natural  things.  So 
much  as  we  know  of  them  has  been  developed  by  the 
successive  energies  of  the  highest  intellects,  exerted 
through  many  ages.  After  a  most  rigid  and  scrutinizing 
examination  upon  principle  and  trial,  a  definite  expres- 
sion has  been  given  to  them  ;  they  have  become,  as  it 
were,  our  belief  or  trust.  From  day  to  day  we  still 
examine  and  test  our  expressions  of  them.  We  have  no 
interest  in  their  retention  if  erroneous ;  on  the  contrar>', 
the  greatest  discovery  a  man  could  make  would  be  to 
prove  that  one  of  these  accepted  laws  was  erroneous, 
and  his  greatest  honour  would  be  the  discovery.  Neither 
would  there  be  any  desire  to  retain  the  former  exprcs- 
•ion ;   for  we  know  that  the  new  or  the  amended  law 


ON   THE   EDUCATION   OF  THE  JUDGMENT.        1 95 

would  be  far  more  productive  in  results,  would  greatly 
increase  our  intellectual  acquisitions,  and  would  prove 
an  abundant  source  of  fresh  delight  to  the  mind. 

These  laws  are  numerous,  and  are  more  or  less  com- 
prehensive. They  are  also  precise  ;  for  a  law  may  pre- 
sent an  apparent  exception,  and  yet  not  be  less  a  law 
to  us,  when  the  exception  is  included  in  the  expression. 
Thus,  that  elevation  of  temperature  expands  all  bodies 
is  a  well-defined  law,  though  there  be  an  exception  in 
water  for  a  limited  temperature ;  because  we  are  careful, 
whilst  stating  the  law,  to  state  the  exception  and  its 
limits.  Pre-eminent  among  these  laws,  because  of  its 
simplicity,  its  universality,  and  its  undeviating  truth, 
stands  that  enunciated  by  Newton  (commonly  called 
the  law  of  gravitation),  that  matter  attracts  matter  with 
a  force  inversely  as  the  square  of  the  distance.  Newton 
showed  that,  by  this  law,  the  general  condition  of  things 
on  the  surface  of  the  earth  is  governed ;  and  the  globe 
itself,  with  all  upon  it,  kept  together  as  a  whole.  He 
demonstrated  that  the  motions  of  the  planets  round  the 
sun,  and  of  the  satellites  about  the  planets,  were  sub- 
ject to  it.  During  and  since  his  time,  certain  variations 
in  the  movements  of  the  planets,  which  were  called 
irregularities,  and  might,  for  aught  that  was  then  known, 
be  due  to  some  cause  other  than  the  attraction  of  gravi- 
tation, were  found  to  be  its  necessary  consequences.  By 
the  close  and  scrutinizing  attention  of  minds  the  most 
persevering  and  careful,  it  was  ascertained  that  even  the 
distant  stars  were  subject  to  this  law;  and,  at  last,  to 
place  as  it  were  the  seal  of  assurance  to  its  never-failing 
truth,  it  became,  in  the  minds  of  Leverrier  and  Addams 
(1845),  the  foreteller  and  the  discoverer  of  an  orb  rolling 
in  the  depths  of  space,  so  large  as  to  equal  nearly  sixty 


196  PROFESSOR  FARADAY 

earths,  yet  so  far  away  as  to  be  invisible  to  the  un- 
assisted eye.  What  truth,  beneath  that  of  revelation, 
can  have  an  assurance  stronger  than  this ! 

Yet  this  law  is  often  cast  aside  as  of  no  value  or 
authority,  because  of  the  unconscious  ignorance  amidst 
which  we  dwell.  You  hear  at  the  present  day,  that 
some  persons  can  place  their  fingers  on  a  table,  and 
then  elevating  their  hands,  the  table  will  rise  up  and 
follow  them  ;  that  the  piece  of  furniture,  though  heavy, 
will  ascend,  and  that  their  hands  bear  no  weight,  or  are 
not  drawn  down  to  the  wood :  you  do  not  hear  of  this 
as  a  conjuring  manoeuvre,  to  be  shown  for  your  amuse- 
ment, but  are  expected  seriously  to  believe  it ;  and  are 
told  that  it  is  an  important  fact,  a  great  discovery 
amongst  the  truths  of  nature.  Your  neighbour,  a  well- 
meaning,  conscientious  person,  believes  it ;  and  the  as- 
sertion finds  acceptance  in  every  rank  of  society,  and 
amongst  classes  which  are  esteemed  to  be  educated. 
Now,  what  can  this  imply  but  that  society,  speaking 
generally,  is  not  only  ignorant  as  respects  education  of 
the  judgment,  but  is  also  ignorant  of  its  ignorance  ?  The 
parties  who  are  thus  persuaded,  and  those  who  are 
inclined  to  think  and  to  hope  that  they  are  right,  throw 
up  Newton's  law  at  once,  and  i/iaf  in  a  case  which  of 
all  others  is  fitted  to  be  tested  by  it ;  or  if  the  law  be 
erroneous,  to  test  the  law.  I  will  not  say  they  oppose 
the  law,  though  I  /lave  heard  the  supposed  fact  quoted 
triumphantly  against  it ;  but  as  far  as  my  observation 
has  gone,  they  will  not  apply  it.  The  law  affords  the 
simplest  means  of  testing  the  fact;  and  if  there  be, 
indeed,  anything  in  the  latter  new  to  our  knowledge 
(and  who  shall  say  that  new  matter  is  not  presented  to 
us  daily,  passing  away  unrecognised),  it  also  affords  tho 


ON   THE   EDUCATION   OF   THE  JUDGMENT.       I97 

means  of  placing  that  before  us  separately  in  its  sim- 
plicity and  truth.  Then  why  not  consent  to  apply  the 
knowledge  we  have  to  that  which  is  under  development  ? 
Shall  we  educate  ourselves  in  what  is  known,  and  then, 
casting  away  all  we  have  acquired,  turn  to  our  ignorance 
for  aid  to  guide  us  among  the  unknown  ?  If  so,  instruct 
a  man  to  write,  but  employ  one  who  is  unacquainted 
with  letters  to  read  that  which  is  written ;  the  end  will 
be  just  as  unsatisfactory,  though  not  so  injurious,  for  the 
book  of  nature,  which  we  have  to  read,  is  written  by  the 
finger  of  God.  Why  should  not  one  who  can  thus  lift  a 
table,  proceed  to  verify  and  simplify  his  fact,  and  bring 
it  into  relation  with  the  law  of  Newton  .-•  Why  should 
he  not  take  the  top  of  his  table  (it  may  be  a  small  one), 
and  placing  it  in  a  balance,  or  on  a  lever,  proceed  to 
ascertain  how  much  weight  he  can  raise  by  the  draught 
of  his  fingers  upwards ;  and  of  this  weight,  so  ascer- 
tained, how  much  is  unrepresented  by  any  pull  upon  the 
fingers  downward  }  He  will  then  be  able  to  investigate 
the  further  question,  whether  electricity,  or  any  new 
force  of  matter,  is  made  manifest  in  his  operations ;  or 
\vhether  action  and  reaction  being  unequal,  he  has  at 
his  command  the  source  of  a  perpetual  motion.  Such  a 
man,  furnished  with  a  nicely  constructed  carriage  on 
a  railway,  ought  to  travel  by  the  mere  draught  of  his 
own  fingers.  A  far  less  prize  than  this  would  gain  him 
the  attention  of  the  whole  scientific  and  commercial 
world  ;  and  he  may  rest  assured,  that  if  he  can  make  the 
most  delicate  balance  incline  or  decline  by  attraction, 
though  it  be  only  with  the  force  of  an  ounce,  or  even  a 
grain,  he  will  not  fail  to  gain  universal  respect  and  most 
honourable  reward. 

When  we  think  of  the  laws  of  nature  (which  by  con- 


198  PROFESSOR   FARADAY 

tinued  observation  have  become  known  to  us),  as  the 
proper  tests  to  which  any  new  fact,  or  our  theoretical 
representation  of  it,  should,  in  the  first  place,  be  sub- 
jected, let  us  contemplate  their  assured  and  large 
character.  Let  us  go  out  into  the  field  and  look  at 
the  heavens,  with  their  solar,  starry,  and  planetary 
glories  ;  the  sky  with  its  clouds  ;  the  waters  descending 
from  above,  or  wandering  at  our  feet ;  the  animals,  the 
trees,  the  plants ;  and  consider  the  permanency  of  their 
actions  and  conditions  under  the  government  of  these 
laws.  The  most  delicate  flower,  the  tenderest  insect, 
continues  in  its  species  through  countless  years  ;  always 
varying,  yet  ever  the  same.  When  we  think  we  have 
discovered  a  departure,  as  in  the  Aphides,  Medusa, 
DistomcB,  &c.,  the  law  concerned  is  itself  the  best  means 
of  instituting  an  investigation,  and  hitherto  we  have 
always  found  the  witness  to  return  to  its  original  tes- 
timony. These  frail  things  are  never  ceasing,  never 
chahging,  evidence  of  the  law's  immutability.  It  would 
be  well  for  a  man  who  has  an  anomalous  case  before 
him,  to  contemplate  a  blade  of  grass,  and  when  he  has 
considered  the  numerous  ceaseless,  yet  certain,  actions 
there  located,  and  his  inability  to  change  the  character 
of  the  least  among  them,  to  recur  to  his  new  subject ; 
and,  in  place  of  accepting  unwatched  and  unchecked 
results,  to  search  for  a  like  certainty  and  recurrence  in 
the  appearances  and  actions  which  belong  to  it 

Perhaps  it  may  be  said,  the  delusion  of  table-moving 
is  past,  and  need  not  be  recalled  before  an  audience  like 
Ihe  present; — even  granting  this,  let  us  endeavour  to 
make  the  subject  leave  one  useful  result ;  let  it  serve 
for  an  example,  not  to  pass  into  forgetfulness.  It  is  so 
recent,  and  was  received  by  the  public  in  a  manner  so 


ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  JUDGMENT.        1 99 

strange,  as  to  justify  a  reference  to  it,  in  proof  of  the 
uneducated  condition  of  the  general  mind.  I  do  not 
object  to  table-moving,  for  itself ;  for  being  once  stated 
it  becomes  a  fit,  though  a  very  unpromising  subject  for 
experiment :  but  I  am  opposed  to  the  unwillingness  of 
its  advocates  to  investigate ;  their  boldness  to  assert ;  the 
credulity  of  the  lookers-on  ;  their  desire  that  the  reser\'ed 
and  cautious  objector  should  be  in  error ;  and  I  wish,  by 
calling  attention  to  these  things,  to  make  the  general 
want  of  m.ental  discipline  and  education  manifest. 

Having  endeavoured  to  point  out  this  great  deficiency 
in  the  exercise  of  the  intellect,  I  will  offer  a  few  remarks 
upon  the  means  of  subjecting  it  to  the  improving  pro- 
cesses of  instruction.  Perhaps  many  who  watch  over 
the  interests  of  the  community,  and  are  anxious  for  its 
welfare,  will  conclude,  that  the  development  of  the 
judgment  cannot  properly  be  included  in  the  general 
idea  of  education ;  that  as  the  education  proposed  must, 
to  a  very  large  degree,  be  of  self,  it  is  so  far  incommu- 
nicable ;  that  the  master  and  the  scholar  merge  into  one, 
and  both  disappear;  that  the  instructor  is  no  wiser  than 
the  one  to  be  instructed,  and  thus  the  usual  relations  of 
the  two  lose  their  power.  Still,  I  believe  that  the  judg- 
ment may  be  educated  to  a  very  large  extent,  and  might 
refer  to  the  fine  arts,  as  giving  proof  in  the  affirmative ; 
and  though,  as  respects  the  community  and  its  improve- 
ment in  relation  to  common  things,  any  useful  educa- 
tion must  be  of  self  I  think  that  society,  as  a  body,  may 
act  powerfully  in  the  cause.  Or  it  may  still  be  objected 
that  my  experience  is  imperfect,  is  chiefly  derived  from 
exercise  of  the  mind  within  the  precincts  of  natural 
philosophy,  and  has  not  that  generality  of  application 
14 


200  PROFESSOR   FARADAY 

which  can  make  it  of  any  value  to  society  at  large.  1 
can  only  repeat  my  conviction,  that  society  occupiej 
Itself  now-a-days  about  physical  matters,  and  judges 
them  as  common  things.  Failing  in  relation  to  them, 
it  is  equally  liable  to  carry  such  failures  into  other 
matters  of  life.  The  proof  of  deficient  judgment  in  one 
department  shows  the  habit  of  mind,  and  the  general 
want,  in  relation  to  others.  I  am  persuaded  that  all 
persons  may  find  in  natural  things  an  admirable  school 
for  self-instruction,  and  a  field  for  the  necessary  mental 
exercise  ;  that  they  may  easily  apply  their  habits  of 
thought,  thus  formed,  to  a  social  use ;  and  that  they 
ought  to  do  this,  as  a  duty  to  themselves  and  their 
generation. 

Let  me  first  try  to  illustrate  the  former  part  of  the 
case,  and  at  the  same  time  st^e  what  I  think  a  man 
may  and  ought  to  do  for  himself. 

The  self-education  to  which  he  should  be  stimulated 
by  the  desire  to  improve  his  judgment,  requires  no  blind 
dependance  upon  the  dogmas  of  others,  but  is  com- 
mended to  him  by  the  suggestions  and  dictates  of  his 
own  common  sense.  The  first  part  of  it  is  founded  in 
mental  discipline :  happily,  it  requires  no  unpleasant 
avowals  ;  appearances  are  preserved,  and  vanity  remains 
unhurt ;  but  it  is  necessary  that  a  man  examine  himself, 
and  that  not  carelessly.  On  the  contrary,  as  he  advances, 
he  should  become  more  and  more  strict,  till  he  ultimately 
prove  a  sharper  critic  to  himself  than  any  one  else  can 
be  ;  and  he  ought  to  intend  this,  for,  so  far  as  he  con 
sciously  falls  short  of  it,  he  acknowledges  that  others 
may  have  reason  on  their  side  when  they  criticise  him. 
A  first  result  of  this  habit  of  mind  will  be  an  internal 
conviction  of  ignorance  in  many  things  respecting  which 


ON   THE   EDUCATION    OF   THE  JUDGMENT.        201 

his  neighbours  are  taught,  and  that  his  opinions  and 
conclusions  on  such  matters  ought  to  be  advanced  with 
reservation.  A  mind  so  disciplined  will  be  open  to  cor' 
rection,  upon  good  grounds,  in  all  things,  even  in  those  it 
is  best  acquainted  with ;  and  should  familiarize  itsel/ 
with  the  idea  of  such  being  the  case :  for  though  it  sees 
no  reason  to  suppose  itself  in  error,  yet  the  possibility- 
exists.  The  mind  is  not  enfeebled  by  this  internal  ad- 
mission, but  strengthened ;  for,  if  it  cannot  distinguish 
proportionately  between  the  probable  right  and  wrong 
of  things  known  imperfectly,  it  will  tend  either  to  be 
rash  or  to  hesitate ;  whilst  that  which  admits  the  due 
amount  of  probability  is  likely  to  be  justified  in  the 
end.  It  is  right  that  we  should  stand  by  and  act  on  our 
principles ;  but  not  right  to  hold  them  in  obstinate 
blindness,  or  retain  them  when  proved  to  be  erroneous. 
I  remember  the  time  when  I  believed  a  spark  was  pro- 
duced between  voltaic  metals  as  they  approached  to 
contact  (and  the  reasons  why  it  might  be  possible  yet 
remain) ;  but  others  doubted  the  fact  and  denied  the 
proofs,  and  on  re-examination  I  found  reason  to  admit 
their  corrections  were  well  founded.  Years  ago  I  be- 
lieved that  electrolytes  could  conduct  electricity  by  a 
conduction  proper  ;  that  has  also  been  denied  by  many 
through  long  time :  though  I  believed  myself  right,  yet 
circumstances  have  induced  me  to  pay  such  respect  to 
criticism  as  to  reinvestigate  the  subject,  and  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  thinking  that  nature  confirms  my  original 
conclusions.  So,  though  evidence  may  appear  to  pre- 
ponderate extremely  in  favour  of  a  certain  decision,  it  is 
wise  and  proper  to  hear  a  counter-statement.  You  can 
nave  no  idea  how  often  and  how  much,  under  such  an 
impression,  I  have  desired  that  the  marvellous  descrip- 


102  PROFESSOR  FARADAY 

tions  which  have  reached  me  might  prove,  in  some  poims, 
correct ;  and  how  frequently  I  have  submitted  myself 
to  hot  fires,  to  friction  with  magnets,  to  the  passes  of 
hands,  &c.  lest  I  should  be  shutting  out  discovery ;  en- 
couraging the  strong  desire  that  something  might  be 
true,  and  that  I  might  aid  in  the  development  of  a  new 
force  of  nature. 

Among  those  points  of  self-education  which  take  up 
the  form  of  mental  discipline^  there  is  one  of  great  im- 
portance, and,  moreover,  difficult  to  deal  with,  because 
it  involves  an  internal  conflict,  and  equally  touches  our 
vanity  and  our  ease.  It  consists  in  the  tendency  to  deceive 
ourselves  regarding  all  we  wish  for,  and  the  necessity  of 
resistance  to  these  desires.  It  is  impossible  for  any  one 
who  has  not  been  constrained,  by  the  course  of  his  occu- 
pation and  thoughts,  to  a  habit  of  continual  self-correc- 
tion, to  be  aware  of  the  amount  of  error  in  relation  to 
judgment  arising  from  this  tendency.  The  force  of  the 
temptation  which  urges  us  to  seek  for  such  evidence  and 
appearances  as  are  in  favour  of  our  desires,  and  to  dis- 
regard those  which  oppose  them,  is  wonderfully  great. 
In  this  respect  we  are  all,  more  or  less,  active  pro« 
moters  of  error.  In  place  of  practising  wholesome 
self-abnegation,  we  ever  make  the  wish  the  father  to  the 
thought :  we  receive  as  friendly  that  which  agrees  with, 
we  resist  with  dislike  that  which  opposes  us ;  whereas 
the  very  reverse  is  required  by  every  dictate  of  common 
sense.  Let  me  illustrate  my  meaning  by  a  case  wheie 
the  proof  being  easy,  the  rejection  of  it  under  the 
temptation  is  the  more  striking.  In  old  times,  a  ring  or 
button  mould  be  tied  by  a  boy  to  one  end  of  a  long 
piece  of  thread,  which  he  would  then  hold  at  the  other 
end,  letting  the  button   hang  within  a  glass,  or  over  a 


ON   THE   EDUCATION   OP^   THE  JUDGMENT.        203 

piece  of  slate-pencil,  or  sealing-wax,  or  a  nail ;  he  would 
wait  and  observe  whether  the  button  swung,  and  whether 
in  swinging  it  tapped  the  glass  as  many  times  as  the 
clock  struck  last,  or  moved  along  or  across  the  slate- 
pencil,  or  in  a  circle  or  oval.  In  late  times,  parties  in 
all  ranks  of  life  have  renewed  and  repeated  the  boy's 
experiment.  They  have  sought  to  ascertain  a  very 
simple  fact — namely,  whether  the  effect  was  as  reported; 
but  how  many  were  unable  to  do  this  .''  They  were  sure 
they  could  keep  their  hands  immoveable, — were  sure 
they  could  do  so  whilst  watching  the  result, — were  sure 
that  accordance  of  swing  with  an  expected  direction  was 
not  the  result  of  their  desires  or  involuntary  motions. 
How  easily  all  these  points  could  be  put  to  the  proof  by 
not  looking  at  the  objects,  yet  how  difficult  for  the  experi- 
menter to  deny  himself  that  privilege.  I  have  rarely 
found  one  who  would  freely  permit  the  substance  ex- 
perimented with  to  be  screened  from  his  sight,  and  then 
its  position  changed. 

When  engaged  in  the  investigation  of  table-turning,  I 
constructed  a  very  simple  apparatus,  serving  as  an 
index,  to  show  the  unconscious  motions  of  the  hands 
upon  the  table.  The  results  were  either  that  the  index 
moved  before  the  table,  or  that  neither  index  nor  table 
moved  ;  and  in  numerous  cases  all  moving  power  was 
annihilated.  A  universal  objection  was  made  to  it  by 
the  table-turners.  It  was  said  to  paralyze  the  powers 
of  the  mind ;  but  the  experimenters  need  not  see  the 
index  ;  they  may  leave  their  friends  to  watch  that,  and 
their  minds  may  revel  in  any  power  that  their  expecta- 
tion or  their  imagination  can  confer.  So  restrained,  a 
dislike  to  the  trial  arises;  but  v»'hat  is  th^,  except  a 
proof    that   whilst   they   trust   themselves   they   doubt 


204  PROFESSOR  FARADAY 

themselves,  and  are  not  willing  to  proceed  to  the  dc- 
cision,  lest  the  trust  which  they  like  should  fail  them, 
and  the  <loubt  which  they  dislike  rise  to  the  authority 
of  truth  ? 

Again,  in  respect  of  the  action  of  magnets  on  the 
body,  it  is  almost  imposible  for  an  uninstructcd  person 
to  enter  profitably  upon  such  an  inquiry.  He  may 
observe  any  symptom  which  his  expectation  has  been 
accidentally  directed  to ;  yet  be  unconscious  of  any,  if 
unaware  of  his  subjection  to  the  magnetic  force,  or  of 
the  conditions  and  manner  of  its  application. 

As  a  proof  of  the  extent  of  this  influence,  even  on  the 
minds  of  those  well  aware  of  its  force,  and  desirous 
under  every  circumstance  to  escape  from  it,  I  will  men- 
tion the  practice  of  the  chemist,  who,  dealing  with  the 
balance,  that  impartial  decider  which  never  fails  in  its 
indication,  but  offers  its  evidence  with  all  simplicity, 
durability,  and  truth,  still  remembers  he  should  doubt 
himself;  and,  with  the  desire  of  rendering  himself  inac- 
cessible to  temptation,  takes  a  counterpoised  but  un- 
known quantity  of  the  substance  for  analysis,  that  he 
may  remain  ignorant  of  the  proportions  which  he  ought 
to  obtain,  and  only  at  last  compares  the  sum  of  his 
products  with  his  counterpoise. 

The  inclination  we  exhibit  in  respect  of  any  report  or 
opinion  that  harmonises  with  our  preconceived  notions, 
can  only  be  compared  in  degree  with  the  incredulity  we 
entertain  towards  everything  that  opposes  them ;  and 
these  opposite  and  apparently  incompatible,  or  at  least 
inconsistent,  conditions  are  accepted  simultaneously  in 
the  most  extraordinary  manner.  At  one  moment  a 
depaiture  from  the  laws  of  nature  is  admitted  without 
die  pretence  of  a  careful  examination  of  the  proof ;  and 


ON  THE   EDUCATION   OF   THE  JUDGMENT.        205 

at  Ihe  next,  the  whole  force  of  these  laws,  acting  un- 
deviatingly  through  all  time,  is  denied,  because  the 
testimony  they  give  is  disliked. 

It  is  my  firm  persuasion,  that  no  man  can  examine 
himself  in  the  most  common  things,  having  any  reference 
to  him  personally,  or  to  any  person,  thought,  or  matter 
related  to  him,  without  being  soon  made  aware  of  the 
temptation  and  the  difficulty  of  opposing  it.  I  could 
give  you  many  illustrations  personal  to  myself,  about 
atmospheric  magnetism,  lines  of  force,  attraction,  repul- 
sion, unity  of  power,  nature  of  matter,  &c. ;  or  in  things 
more  general  to  our  common  nature,  about  likes  and 
dislikes,  wishes,  hopes,  and  fears;  but  it  would  be  unsuit- 
able, and  also  unnecessary,  for  each  must  be  conscious 
of  a  large  field  sadly  uncultivated  in  this  respect.  / 
will  simply  express  my  strong  beliefs  that  that  point  of 
self-education  which  consists  in  teaching  the  mind  to  re- 
sist its  desires  and  inclinations^  jmtil  they  are  proved  to 
be  right,  is  the  most  important  of  all,  not  only  in  things 
of  natural  philosophy,  hit  in  every  department  of  daily 
rife. 

There  are  numerous  precepts,  resulting  more  or  less 
from  the  principles  of  mental  discipline  already  insisted 
on  as  essential,  which  are  very  useful  in  forming  a  judg- 
ment about  matters  of  fact,  whether  among  natural 
things  or  between  man  and  man.  Such  a  precept,  and 
one  that  should  recur  to  the  mind  early  in  every  new 
case  is,  to  know  tlie  conditions  of  the  matter,  respecting 
which  we  are  called  upon  to  make  a  judgment.  To 
suppose  that  any  would  judge  before  they  professed  to 
know  the  conditions,  would  seem  to  be  absurd  ;  on  the 
other  hanj,  to  assume  that  the  community  does  wait  tu 
know  the  conditions  before  it  judges,  is  an  assumption 


206  PROFESSOR  FARADAY 

SO  large  tliat  I  cannot  accept  it.  Very  few  search  out 
the  conditions ;  most  are  anxious  to  sink  those  whicli 
oppose  their  preconceptions ;  yet  none  can  be  left  out  if 
a  right  judgment  is  to  be  formed.  It  is  true  that  many 
conditions  must  ever  remain  unknown  to  us,  even  in 
regard  to  the  simplest  things  in  nature :  thus,  as  to  the 
wonderful  action  of  gravity,  whose  law  never  fails  us, 
we  cannot  say  whether  the  bodies  are  acting  truly  at  a 
distance,  or  by  a  physical  line  of  force  as  a  connecting 
link  between  them.  The  great  majority  think  the  former 
is  the  case ;  Newton's  judgment  is  for  the  latter.  But 
of  the  conditions  which  are  within  our  reach  we  should 
search  out  all ;  for  in  relation  to  those  which  remain  un- 
known or  unsuspected,  we  are  in  that  very  ignorance 
(regarding  judgment)  which  it  is  our  present  object,  first 
to  make  manifest,  and  then  to  remove. 

One  exercise  of  the  mind,  which  largely  influences 
the  power  and  character  of  the  judgment,  is  the  habit 
of  forming  clear  and  precise  ideas.  If,  after  considering 
a  subject  in  our  ordinary  manner,  we  return  upon  it  with 
the  special  purpose  of  noticing  the  condition  of  our 
thoughts,  we  shall  be  astonished  to  find  how  little  precise 
they  remain.  On  recalling  the  phenomena  relating  to  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  circumstances  modifying  them,  the 
kind  and  amount  of  action  presented,  the  real  or  pro- 
bable result,  we  shall  find  that  the  first  impressions  arc 
scarcely  fit  for  the  foundation  of  a  judgment,  and  that 
the  second  thoughts  will  be  best.  For  the  acquirement 
of  a  good  condition  of  mind  in  this  respect,  the  thoughts 
should  be  trained  to  a  habit  of  clear  and  precise  forma- 
tion, so  that  vivid  and  distinct  impressions  of  the  matter 
in  hand,  its  circumstances  and  consequences,  may  re- 
main. 


ON   THE   EDUCATION   OF   THE  JUDGMENT.        20 7 

Before  we  proceed  to  consider  any  question  involving 
physical  principles,  we  should  set  out  with  clear  ideas  of 
the  naturally  possible  and  impossible.  There  are  many 
subjects  uniting  more  or  less  of  the  most  sure  and 
valuable  investigations  of  science  with  the  most  imagi- 
nar}'  and  unprofitable  speculation,  that  are  continually 
passing  through  their  various  phases  of  intellectual,  ex- 
perimental, or  commercial  development:  some  to  be 
established,  some  to  disappear,  and  some  to  recur  again 
and  again,  like  ill  weeds  that  cannot  be  extirpated,  yet 
can  be  cultivated  to  no  result  as  wholesome  food  for  the 
mind.  Such,  for  instance,  in  different  degrees,  are  the 
caloric  engine,  the  electric  light,  the  Pasilalinic  sympa- 
thetic compass,*  mesmerism,  homoeopathy,  odylism,  the 
magneto-electric  engine,  the  perpetual  motion,  &c.  All 
hear  and  talk  of  these  things  ;  all  use  their  judgment 
more  or  less  upon  them,  and  all  might  do  that  effectively, 
if  they  were  to  instruct  themselves  to  the  extent  which 
is  within  their  reach.  I  am  persuaded  that  natural 
things  offer  an  admirable  school  for  self-instruction,  a 
most  varied  field  for  the  necessary  mental  practice,  and 
that  those  who  exercise  themselves  therein  may  easily 
apply  the  habits  of  thought  thus  formed  to  a  social  use. 
As  a  first  step  in  such  practice,  clear  ideas  should  be 
obtained  of  what  is  possible  and  what  is  impossible. 
Thus,  it  is  impossible  to  create  force.  We  may  employ 
it ;  we  may  evoke  it  in  one  form  by  its  consumption  in 
another;  we  may  hide  it  for  a  period  ;  but  we  can  neither 
create  nor  destroy  it.  We  may  cast  it  away ;  but  where 
we  dismiss  it,  there  it  will  do  its  work.  If,  therefore,  we 
desire  to  consider  a  proposition  respecting  the  employ- 
ment or  evolution  of  power,  let  us  carry  our  judgment, 
*  .See '•  Chambers's  Journal,"  1S51,  Feb.  15,  p.  105. 
J 


2o8  PROFESSOR  FARADAY 

educatetl  on  this  point,  with  us.  If  the  proposal  include 
the  double  use  of  a  force  with  only  one  excitement,  it 
implies  a  creation  of  power,  and  that  cannot  be.  If  we 
could  by  the  fingers  draw  a  heavy  piece  of  wood  or  stone 
upward  without  effort,  and  then,  letting  it  sink,  could 
[produce  by  its  gravity  an  effort  equal  to  its  weight,  that 
would  be  a  creation  of  power,  and  cannot  be. 

So  again  we  cannot  annihilate  matter,  nor  can  we 
create  it  But  if  we  are  satisfied  to  rest  upon  that  dogma, 
what  are  we  to  think  of  table-lifting  ?  If  we  could  make 
the  table  to  cease  from  acting  by  gravity  upon  the  earth 
beneath  it,  or  by  reaction  upon  the  hand  supposed  to 
draw  it  upwards,  we  should  annihilate  it,  in  respect  of 
that  very  property  which  characterises  it  as  matter. 

Considerations  of  this  nature  are  very  important  aids 
to  the  judgment ;  and  when  a  statement  is  made  claim- 
ing our  assent,  we  should  endeavour  to  reduce  it  to  some 
consequence  which  can  be  immediately  compared  with, 
and  tried  by,  these  or  like  compact  and  never  failing 
truths.  If  incompatibility  appears,  then  we  have  reason 
to  suspend  our  conclusion,  however  attractive  to  the 
imagination  the  proposition  may  be,  and  pursue  the 
inquiry  further,  until  accordance  is  obtained ;  it  must  be 
a  most  uneducated  and  presumptuous  mind  that  can  at 
once  consent  to  cast  off  the  tried  truth  and  accept  in  its 
place  the  mere  loud  assertion.  We  should  endeavour  to 
separate  the  points  before  us,  and  concentrate  each,  so 
as  to  evolve  a  clear  type  idea  of  the  ruling  fact  and 
its  consequences ;  looking  at  the  matter  on  every  side, 
with  the  great  purpose  of  distinguishing  the  constituent 
reality,  and  recognising  it  under  every  variety  of  aspect 

In  like  manner  we  should  accustom  ourselves  to  clear 
and  definite  language,  especially  in  physical  matters 


ON    THE   EDUCATION   OF   THE  JUDGMENT.       209 

giving  to  a  word  its  true  and  full,  but  measured  mean- 
ing, that  we  may  be  able  to  convey  our  ideas  clearly 
to  the  minds  of  others.  Two  persons  cannot  mutually 
impart  their  knowledge,  or  compare  and  rectify  their 
conclusions,  unless  both  attend  to  the  true  intent  and 
force  of  language.  If  by  such  words  as  attraction,  eleC' 
tricity,  polarity,  or  atom,  they  imply  different  things, 
they  may  discuss  facts,  deny  results,  and  doubt  conse- 
quences for  an  indefinite  time  without  any  advantageous 
progress.  I  hold  it  as  a  great  point  in  self-education, 
that  the  student  should  be  continually  engaged  in  form- 
ing exact  ideas,  and  in  expressing  them  clearly  by  lan- 
guage. Such  practice  insensibly  opposes  any  tendency 
to  exaggeration  or  mistake,  and  increases  the  sense  and 
love  of  truth  in  every  part  of  life. 

I  should  be  sorry,  however,  if  what  I  have  said  were 
understood  as  meaning  that  education  for  the  improve- 
ment and  strengthening  of  the  judgment  is  to  be  alto- 
gether repressive  of  the  imagination,  or  confine  the 
exercise  of  the  mind  to  processes  of  a  mathematical  or 
mechanical  character.  I  believe  that,  in  the  pursuit  of 
physical  science,  the  imagination  should  be  taught  to 
present  the  subject  investigated  in  all  possible,  and  even 
in  impossible  views ;  to  search  for  analogies  of  likeness 
and  (if  I  may  say  so)  of  opposition — mverse  or  contrasted 
analogies;  to  present  the  fundamental  idea  in  every  form, 
proportion,  and  condition ;  to  clothe  it  with  suppositions 
and  probabilities,  that  all  cases  may  pass  in  review,  and 
be  touched,  if  needful,  by  the  Ithuriel  spear  of  experi- 
ment. But  all  this  must  be  tinder  government,  and  the 
result  must  not  be  given  to  society  until  the  judgment, 
educated  by  the  process  itself,  has  been  exercised  upon 
it.     Let  us  construct  our  hypotheses  for  an  hour,  or  a 


2IO  PROFESSOR  FARADAY 

day,  or  for  years ;  they  are  of  the  utmost  value  in  the 
elimination  of  truth,  "  which  is  evolved  more  freely  from 
error  than  from  confusion ; "  but,  above  all  things,  let  us 
not  cease  to  be  aware  of  the  temptation  they  offer,  or, 
because  they  gradually  become  familiar  to  us,  accept 
them  as  established.  We  could  not  reason  about  elec- 
tricity without  thinking  of  it  as  a  fluid,  or  a  vibration,  or 
some  other  existent  state  or  form.  We  should  give  up 
half  our  advantage  in  the  consideration  of  heat  if  we 
refused  to  consider  it  as  a  principle,  or  a  state  of  motion. 
We  could  scarcely  touch  such  subjects  by  experiment, 
and  we  should  make  no  progress  in  their  practical  appli- 
cation, without  hypothesis;  still  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
that  we  should  learn  to  doubt  the  conditions  we  ariume, 
and  acknowledge  we  are  uncertain,  whether  heat  and 
electricity  are  vibrations  or  substances,  or  either. 

When  the  different  data  required  are  in  our  possession, 
and  we  have  succeeded  in  forming  a  clear  idea  of  each, 
the  mind  should  be  instructed  to  balamc  them  one 
against  another,  and  not  suffered  carelessly  to  hasten 
to  a  conclusion.  This  reserve  is  most  essential ;  and  it 
is  especially  needful  that  the  reasons  which  are  adverse 
to  our  expectations  or  our  desires  should  be  carefully 
attended  to.  We  often  receive  truth  from  unpleasant 
sources;  we  often  have  reason  to  accept  unpalatable 
truths.  We  are  never  freely  willing  to  admit  infor- 
mation having  this  unpleasant  character,  and  it  requires 
much  self-control  in  this  respect,  to  preserve  us,  even 
in  a  moderate  degree,  from  errors.  I  suppose  there  is 
scarcely  one  investigator  in  original  research  who  has 
not  felt  the  temptation  to  disregard  the  reasons  and 
results  which  are  against  his  views.  I  acknowledge  that 
L  have  experienced  it  very  often,  and  will  not  pretend 


ON   THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  JUDGMENT.         211 

to  say  that  I  have  yet  learned  on  all  occasions  to  avoid 
the  error.  When  a  bar  of  bismuth  or  phosphorus  is 
placed  between  the  poles  of  a  powerful  magnet,  it  is 
drawn  into  a  position  across  the  line  joining  the  poles  ; 
when  only  one  pole  is  near  the  bar,  the  latter  recedes ; 
this  and  the  former  effect  is  due  to  repulsion,  and  is 
strikingly  in  contrast  with  the  attraction  shown  by  iron. 
To  account  for  it,  I  at  one  time  suggested  the  idea  that 
a  polarity  was  induced  in  the  phosphorus  or  bismuth 
the  reverse  of  the  polarity  induced  in  iron,  and  that 
opinion  is  still  sustained  by  eminent  philosophers.  But 
observe  a  necessary  result  of  such  a  supposition,  which 
appears  to  follow  when  the  phenomena  are  referred  to 
elementary  principles.  Time  is  shown,  by  every  result 
bearing  on  the  subject,  to  be  concerned  in  the  coming 
on  and  passing  away  of  the  inductive  condition  produced 
by  magnetic  force ;  and  the  consequence,  as  Thomson 
pointed  out,  is,  that  if  a  ball  of  bismuth  could  be  sus- 
pended between  the  poles  of  a  magnet,  so  as  to  encounter 
no  resistance  from  the  surrounding  medium,  or  from 
friction  or  torsion,  and  were  once  put  in  motion  round 
a  vertical  axis,  it  would,  because  of  the  assumed  polar 
state,  go  on  for  ever  revolving,  the  parts  which  at  any 
moment  are  axial  moving  like  the  bar,  so  as  to  become 
the  next  moment  equatorial.  Now,  as  we  believe  the 
mechanical  forces  of  nature  tend  to  bring  things  into 
a  stable,  and  not  into  an  unstable  condition  ;  as  we 
believe  that  a  perpetual  motion  is  impossible  ;  so,  be- 
cause both  these  points  are  involved  in  the  notion  of  the 
reverse  polarity,  which  itself  is  not  supposed  to  be  de- 
pendent on  any  consumption  of  power,  I  feel  bound  to 
hold  the  judgment  balanced,  and  therefore  hesitate  to 
accept  a  conclusion  founded  on  such  a  notion  of  the 


212  PROFESSOR   FARADAY 

physical  action ;  the  more  especially  as  the  peculiar 
test  facts*  which  prove  the  polarity  of  iron  are  not 
reproduced  in  the  case  of  diamagnetic  bodies. 

As  a  result  of  this  wholesome  mental  condition,  w( 
should  be  able  to  form  a  proportionate  judgment.  The 
mind  naturally  desires  to  settle  upon  one  thing  oi 
another ;  to  rest  upon  an  affirmative  or  a  negative ; 
and  that  with  a  degree  of  absolutism  which  is  irrational 
and  improper.  In  drawing  a  conclusion,  it  is  very  diffi- 
cult, but  not  the  less  necessary,  to  make  it  proportionate 
to  the  evidence  :  except  where  certainty  exists  (a  case 
of  rare  occurrence),  we  should  consider  our  decisions  as 
probable  only.  The  probability  may  appear  very  great, 
so  that  in  affairs  of  the  world  we  often  accept  such  as 
certainty,  and  trust  our  welfare  or  our  lives  upon  it. 
Still,  only  an  uneducated  mind  will  confound  probability 
with  certainty,  especially  when  it  encounters  a  contrary 
conclusion  drawn  by  another  from  like  data.  This  sus- 
pension in  degree  of  judgment  will  not  make  a  man 
less  active  in  life,  or  his  conclusions  less  certain  as 
truths ;  on  the  contrary,  I  believe  him  to  be  the  more 
ready  for  the  right  amount  and  direction  of  action  on 
any  emergency  ;  and  am  sure  his  conclusions  and  state- 
ments will  carry  more  weight  in  the  world  than  those 
of  the  incautious  man. 

When  I  was  young,  I  received  from  one  well  able  to 
aid  a  learner  in  his  endeavours  towards  self-improve- 
ment, a  curious  lesson  in  the  mode  of  estimating  the 
amount  of  belief  one  might  be  induced  to  attach  to  our 
conclusions.  The  person  was  Dr.  Wollaston,  who,  upon 
a  given  point,  was  induced  to  offer  me  a  wager  of  two 
to  one  on  the  affirmative.     I  rather  impertinently  quoted 

*  Ezxierimental  Rcsearchflt  in  Electricity,  paragraph*  2,657 — a,68l* 


ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  JUDGMENT.   213 

Butler's  well-known  lines*  about  the  kind  of  persons 
who  use  wagers  for  argument,  and  he  gently  explained 
to  me,  that  he  considered  such  a  wager  not  as  a 
thoughtless  thing,  but  as  an  expression  of  the  amount 
of  belief  in  the  mind  of  the  person  offering  it;  com- 
bining this  curious  application  of  the  wager,  as  a  meter, 
with  the  necessity  that  ever  existed  of  drawing  conclu- 
sions, not  absolute,  but  proportionate  to  the  evidence. 

Occasionally  and  frequently  the  exercise  of  the  judg- 
ment ought  to  end  in  absolute  reservation.  It  may  be 
very  distasteful,  and  great  fatigue,  to  suspend  a  con- 
clusion ;  but  as  we  are  not  infallible,  so  we  ought  to  be 
cautious:  we  shall  eventually  find  our  advantage,  for 
the  man  who  rests  in  his  position  is  not  so  far  from  right 
as  he  who,  proceeding  in  a  wrong  direction,  is  ever  in- 
creasing his  distance.  In  the  year  1824,  Arago  dis- 
covered that  copper  and  other  bodies  placed  in  the 
vicinity  of  a  magnet,  and  having  no  direct  action  of 
attraction  or  repulsion  upon  it,  did  affect  it  when  moved, 
and  were  affected  by  it.  A  copper  plate  revolving  near 
a  «iagnet  carried  the  magnet  with  it ;  or  if  the  magnet 
revolved,  and  not  the  copper,  it  carried  the  copper  with 
it.  A  magnetic  needle  vibrating  freely  over  a  disc  of 
glass  or  wood,  was  exceedingly  retarded  in  its  motion 
when  these  were  replaced  by  a  disc  of  copper.  Arago 
stated  most  clearly  all  the  conditions,  and  resolved 
the  forces  into  three  directions,  but  not  perceiving  the 
physical  cause  of  the  action,  exercised  a  most  wise. and 
instructive  reservation  as  to  his  conclusion.  Others,  as 
Haldat,  considered  it  as  the  proof  of  the  universality  of 
a  magnetism  of  the   ordinary  kind,  and  held  to  that 

*  "  Quoth  she,  '  I've  heard  old  cunning  stagers^ 
Say  fools  for  arguments  use  wap'ers,'  " 


214  PROFESSOR  FARADAY 

notion  though  it  was  contradicted  by  the  further  facts ; 
and  it  was  only  at  a  future  period  that  the  true  physical 
cause,  namely,  magneto-electric  currents  induced  in 
the  copper,  became  known  to  us.  What  an  education 
Arago's  mind  must  have  received  in  relation  to  philo- 
sophical reservation  ;  what  an  antithesis  he  forms  with 
the  mass  of  table-turners  ;  and  what  a  fine  example  he 
has  left  us  of  that  condition  of  judgment  to  which  we 
should  strive  to  attain  ! 

If  I  may  give  another  illustration  of  the  needful 
reservation  of  judgment,  I  will  quote  the  case  of  oxygen 
and  hydrogen  gases,  which,  being  mixed,  will  remain 
together  uncombined  for  years  in  contact  with  glass, 
but  in  contact  with  spongy  platinum  combine  at  once. 
We  have  the  same  fact  in  many  forms,  and  many 
suggestions  have  been  made  as  to  the  mode  of  action, 
but  as  yet  we  do  not  know  clearly  how  the  result  comes 
to  pass.  We  cannot  tell  whether  electricity  acts  or  not. 
Then  we  should  suspend  our  conclusions.  Our  know- 
ledge of  the  fact  itself,  and  the  many  varieties  of  it,  is 
not  the  less  abundant  or  sure ;  and  when  the  truth  shall 
hereafter  emerge  from  the  mist,  we  ought  to  have  no 
opposing  prejudice,  but  be  prepared  to  receive  it. 

The  education  which  I  advocate  will  require  patience 
and  labour  of  thought  in  every  exercise  tending  to  im- 
prove the  judgment.  It  matters  not  on  what  subject  a 
person's  mind  is  occupied,  he  should  engage  in  it  with 
the  conviction  that  it  will  require  mental  labour.  A 
powerful  mind  will  be  able  to  draw  a  conclusion  more 
readily  and  more  correctly  than  one  of  moderate  cha- 
racter, but  both  will  surpass  themselves  if  they  make 
an  earnest,  careful  investigation,  instead  of  a  careless  or 
prejudiced  one ;  and  education  for  tliis  purpose  is  the 


ON  THE   EDUCATION   OF   THE  JUDGMENT.        215 

more  necessary  for  the  latter,  because  the  man  of  less 
ability  may,  through  it,  raise  his  rank  and  amend  his 
position.  I  earnestly  urge  this  point  of  self-education, 
for  I  believe  it  to  be  more  or  less  in  the  power  of  every 
man  greatly  to  improve  his  judgment.  I  do  not  think 
that  one  has  the  complete  capacity  for  judgment  which 
another  is  naturally  without.  I  am  of  opinion  that  ail 
may  judge,  and  that  we  only  need  to  declare  on  every 
side  the  conviction  that  mental  education  is  wanting,  and 
lead  men  to  see  that  through  it  they  hold,  in  a  large 
degree,  their  welfare  and  their  character  in  their  own 
hands,  to  cause  in  future  years  an  abundant  development 
of  right  judgment  in  every  class. 

This  education  has  for  its  first  and  its  last  step 
humility.  It  can  commence  only  because  of  a  conviction 
of  deficiency  ;  and  if  we  are  not  disheartened  under  the 
growing  revelations  which  it  will  make,  that  conviction 
will  become  stronger  unto  the  end.  But  the  humility 
will  be  founded,  not  on  comparison  of  ourselves  with 
the  imperfect  standards  around  us,  but  on  the  increase  of 
that  internal  knowledge  which  alone  can  make  us  aware 
of  our  internal  wants.  The  first  step  in  correction  is  to 
learn  our  deficiencies,  and  having  learned  them,  the  next 
step  is  almost  complete  :  for  no  man  who  has  discovered 
that  his  judgment  is  hasty,  or  illogical,  or  imperfect, 
would  go  on  with  the  same  degree  of  haste,  or  irration- 
ality, or  presumption  as  before.  I  do  not  mean  that  all 
would  at  once  be  cured  of  bad  mental  habits,  but  1 
think  better  of  human  nature  than  to  believe,  that  a  man, 
in  any  rank  of  life,  who  has  arrived  at  the  consciousness 
of  such  a  condition,  would  deny  his  common  sense,  and 
still  judge  and  act  as  before.  And  though  such  self- 
schooling  must  continue  to  the  end  of  life  to  supply  an 

15 


2l6  PROFESSOR   FARADAY 

experience  of  deficiency  rather  than  of  attainment,  still 
there  is  abundant  stimulus  to  excite  any  man  to  perse- 
verance. What  he  has  lost  are  things  imaginary,  not 
real ;  what  he  gains  are  riches  before  unknown  to  him, 
yet  invaluable  ;  and  though  he  may  think  more  humbly 
ol  his  own  character,  he  will  find  himself  at  every  step 
of  his  progress  more  sought  for  than  before,  more  trusted 
with  responsibility  and  held  in  pre-eminence  by  his 
equals,  and  more  highly  valued  by  those  whom  he  him- 
self will  esteem  worthy  of  approbation. 

And  now  a  few  words  upon  the  mutual  relation  of 
two  classes,  namely,  those  who  decline  to  educate  their 
judgments  in  regard  to  the  matters  on  which  they 
decide,  and  those  who,  by  self-education,  have  endea- 
voured to  improve  themselves  ;  and  upon  the  remarkable 
and  somewhat  unreasonable  manner  in  which  the  latter 
are  called  upon,  and  occasionally  taunted,  by  the  former. 
A  man  who  makes  assertions,  or  draws  conclusions,  re- 
garding any  given  case,  ought  to  be  competent  to  inves- 
tigate it.  He  has  no  right  to  throw  the  onus  on  others, 
declaring  it  their  duty  to  prove  him  right  or  wrong. 
His  duty  is  to  demonstrate  the  truth  of  that  which 
he  asserts,  or  to  cease  from  asserting.  The  men  he  calls 
upon  to  consider  and  judge  have  enough  to  do  with 
themselves,  in  the  examination,  correction,  or  verification 
of  their  own  views.  The  world  little  knows  how  many 
of  the  thoughts  and  theories  which  have  passed  through 
the  mind  of  a  scientific  investigator  have  been  crushed  in 
silence  and  secrecy  by  his  own  severe  criticism  and  ad- 
verse examination  ;  that  in  the  most  successful  instances 
not  a  tenth  of  the  suggestions,  the  hopes,  the  wishes,  the 
preliminary  conclusions  have  been  realized.  And  is  a 
man  so  occupied  to  be  taken  from  his  search  after  truth 


ON   THE   EDUCATION   OF  THE  JUDGMENT.         21 7 

in  the  path  he  hopes  may  lead  to  its  attainment,  and 
occupied  in  vain  upon  nothing  but  a  broad  assertion  ? 

Neither  has  the  assertor  of  any  new  thing  a  right  to 
claim  an  answer  in  the  form  of  Ves  or  No ;  or  think, 
because  none  is  forthcoming,  that  he  is  to  be  considered 
as  having  established  his  assertion.  So  much  is  un- 
known to  the  wisest  man,  that  he  may  often  be  without 
an  answer ;  as  frequently  he  is  so,  because  the  subject  is 
in  the  region  of  hypothesis,  and  not  of  facts.  In  either 
case  he  has  the  right  to  refuse  to  speak.  I  cannot  tell 
whether  there  are  two  fluids  of  electricity  or  any  fluid 
at  all.  I  am  not  bound  to  explain  how  a  table  tilts  any 
more  than  to  indicate  how,  under  the  conjuror's  hands,  a 
pudding  appears  in  a  hat.  The  means  are  not  known  to 
me.  I  am  persuaded  that  the  results,  however  strange 
they  may  appear,  are  in  accordance  with  that  which  is 
truly  known,  and  if  carefully  investigated  would  justify 
the  well-tried  laws  of  nature ;  but,  as  life  is  limited,  I 
am  not  disposed  to  occupy  the  time  it  is  made  of  in  the 
investigation  of  matters  which,  in  what  is  known  to  me 
of  them,  offer  no  reasonable  prospect  of  any  useful  pro- 
gress, or  anything  but  negative  results.  We  deny  the 
right  of  those  who  call  upon  us  to  answer  their  specu- 
lations "  tf  we  can"  whilst  we  have  so  many  of  our 
own  to  develop  and  correct ;  and  claim  the  right  for 
ourselves  of  withholding  either  our  conclusions  or  the 
reasons  for  them,  without  in  the  least  degree  admitting 
that  their  affirmations  are  unanswerable.  We  are  not 
even  called  upon  to  give  an  answer  to  the  best  of  our 
belief:  nor  bound  to  admit  a  bold  assertion  because  we 
do  not  know  to  the  contrary.  No  one  is  justified  in 
claiming  our  assent  to  the  spontaneous  generation  of 
insects,  because  we  cannot  circumstantially  explain  how 


2i8  profp:ssor  faraday 

a  mite  or  the  egg  of  a  mite  has  entered  irito  a  particular 
bottle.  Let  those  who  affirm  the  exception  to  the 
general  law  of  nature,  or  those  others  who  upon  the 
affirmation  accept  the  result,  work  out  the  experimental 
proof  It  has  been  done  in  this  case  by  Schulze,  and  is 
in  the  negative  ;  but  how  few  among  the  many  who 
make,  or  repeat,  the  assertion,  would  have  the  requisite 
self-abnegation,  the  subjected  judgment,  the  persever- 
ance, and  the  precision  which  has  been  displayed  in  that 
research. 

When  men,  more  or  less  marked  by  their  advance,  are 
led  by  circumstances  to  give  an  opinion  adverse  to  any 
popular  notion,  or  to  the  assertions  of  any  sanguine 
inventor,  nothing  is  more  usual  than  the  attempt  to 
neutralize  the  force  of  such  an  opinion  by  reference  to 
the  mistakes  which  like  educated  men  have  made ;  and 
their  occasional  misjudgments  and  erroneous  conclusions 
are  quoted,  as  if  they  were  less  competent  than  others 
to  give  an  opinion,  being  even  disabled  from  judging 
like  matters  to  those  which  are  included  in  their  pur- 
suits by  the  very  exercise  of  their  minds  upon  them. 
How  frequently  has  the  reported  judgment  of  Davy, 
upon  the  impossibility  of  gas-lighting  on  a  large  scale, 
been  quoted  by  speculators  engaged  in  tempting  monied 
men  into  companies,  or  in  the  pages  of  journals  occupied 
with  the  popular  fancies  of  the  day ;  as  if  an  argument 
were  derivable  from  that  in  favour  of  some  special  object 
to  be  commended.  Why  should  not  men  taught  in 
the  matter  of  judgment  far  beyond  their  neighbours,  be 
expected  to  err  sometimes,  since  the  very  education  in 
which  they  are  advanced  can  only  terminate  with  their 
lives  ^  What  is  there  about  them,  derived  from  i/tis 
Siiucation,  which  sets  up  the  shadow  of  a  pretence  to 


ON   THE  ED'JCATION   OF  THE  JUDGMENT.        219 

perfection  ?  Such  men  cannot  learn  all  things,  and  may 
often  be  ignorant.  The  very  progress  which  science 
makes  amongst  them  as  a  body  is  a  continual  correction 
of  ignorance — i.e.  of  a  state  which  is  ignorance  in  re- 
lation to  the  future,  though  wisdom  and  knowledge  in 
relation  to  the  past.  In  1823,  Wollaston  discovered 
that  beautiful  substance  which  he  called  Titanium, 
believing  it  to  be  a  simple  metal:  and  it  was  so  ac- 
cepted by  all  philosophers.  Yet  this  was  a  mistake,  for 
Wohler,  in  1850,  showed  the  substance  was  a  very  com- 
pound body.  This  is  no  reproach  to  Wollaston  or  to 
those  who  trusted  in  him ;  he  made  a  step  in  metallurgy 
which  advanced  knowledge,  and  perhaps  we  may  here- 
after, through  it,  learn  to  know  that  metals  are  com- 
pound bodies.  Who,  then,  has  a  right  to  quote  his 
mistake  as  a  reproach  against  him  ?  Who  could  cor- 
rect him  but  men  intellectually  educated  as  he  himself 
was  ?  Who  does  not  feel  that  the  investigation  remains 
a  bright  gem  in  the  circlet  that  memory  offers  to  his 
honour  .'' 

If  we  are  to  estimate  the  utility  of  an  educated  judg- 
ment, do  not  let  us  hear  merely  of  the  errors  of  scientific 
men,  which  have  been  corrected  by  others  taught  in  the 
same  careful  school ;  but  let  us  see  what,  as  a  body, 
they  have  produced,  compared  with  that  supplied  by 
their  reproachers.  Where  are  the  established  truths 
and  triumphs  of  ring-swingers,  table-turners,  table- 
speakers  }  What  one  result  in  the  numerous  divisions 
of  science  or  its  applications  can  be  traced  to  their 
exertions?  Where  is  the  investigation  completed,  so 
that,  as  in  gas-lighting,  all  may  admit  that  the  principles 
are  established  and  a  good  end  obtained,  without  the 
shadow  of  a  doubt .-' 


Z20  PROFESSOR   FARADAY 

If  we  look  to  electricity,  it,  in  the  hands  of  the  care- 
ful investigator,  has  advanced  to  the  most  extraordinary 
results  :  it  approaches  at  the  motion  of  his  hand  ;  bursts 
from  the  metal ;  descends  from  the  atmosphere ;  sur- 
rounds the  globe :  it  talks,  it  writes,  it  records,  it  appears 
to  him  (cautious  as  he  has  learned  to  become)  as  a  uni- 
versal spirit  in  nature.  If  we  look  to  photography, 
whose  origin  is  of  our  own  day,  and  see  what  it  has 
become  in  the  hands  of  its  discoverers  and  their  suc- 
cessors, how  wonderful  are  the  results !  The  light  is 
made  to  yield  impressions  upon  the  dead  silver  or  the 
coarse  paper,  beautiful  as  those  it  produced  upon  the 
living  and  sentient  retina :  its  most  transient  impression 
is  rendered  durable  for  years ;  it  is  made  to  leave  a 
visible  or  an  invisible  trace  ;  to  give  a  result  to  be  seen 
now  or  a  year  hence  ;  made  to  paint  all  natural  forms 
and  even  colours ;  it  serves  the  offices  of  war,  of  peace, 
of  art,  science,  and  economy :  it  replaces  even  the  mind 
of  the  human  being  in  some  of  its  lower  services  ;  for  a 
little  camphine  lamp  is  set  down  and  left  to  itself,  tc 
perform  the  duty  of  watching  the  changes  of  magnetism 
heat,  and  other  forces  of  nature,  and  to  record  the  results, 
in  pictorial  curves,  which  supply  an  enduring  record  of 
their  most  transitory  actions. 

What  has  clairvoyance,  or  mesmerism,  or  table-rapping 
done  in  comparison  with  results  like  these  ?  What  have 
the  snails  at  Paris  told  us  from  the  snails  at  New  York  > 
What  have  any  of  these  intelligences  done  in  aiding 
such  developments  }  Why  did  they  not  inform  us  of 
the  possibility  of  photography  ;  or,  when  that  became 
known,  why  did  they  not  favour  us  with  some  instruc- 
tions for  its  improvement }  They  all  profess  to  deal 
with  agencies  far  more  exalted  in  character  than  an 


ON    THE   EDUCATION   OF   THE  JUDGMENT.        221 

electric  current  or  a  ray  of  light:  they  also  deal  with 
mechanical  forces ;  they  employ  both  the  bodily  organs 
and  the  mental*  they  profess  to  lift  a  table,  to  turn  .t, 
hat,  to  see  into  a  box,  or  into  the  next  room,  or  a  town  : 
— why  should  they  not  move  a  balance,  and  so  give  us 
the  element  of  a  new  mechanical  power  ?  take  cognizance 
of  a  bottle  and  its  contents,  and  tell  us  how  they  will  act 
upon  those  of  a  neighbouring  bottle  ?  either  see  or  feel 
into  a  crystal,  and  inform  us  of  what  it  is  composed  ? 
Why  have  they  not  added  one  metal  to  the  fifty  known 
to  mankind,  or  one  planet  to  the  number  daily  increasing 
under  the  observant  eye  of  the  astronomer  ?  Why  have 
they  not  corrected  one  of  the  mistakes  of  the  philo- 
sophers ?  There  are  no  doubt  very  many  that  require  it 
There  has  been  plenty  of  time  for  the  development  and 
maturation  of  some  of  the  numerous  public  pretences 
that  have  risen  up  in  connexion  with  these  supposed 
agencies ;  how  is  it  that  not  one  new  power  has  been 
added  to  the  means  of  investigation  employed  by  the 
philosophers,  or  one  valuable  utilitarian  application  pre- 
sented to  society  ? 

In  conclusion,  I  will  freely  acknowledge  that  all  I 
have  said  regarding  the  great  want  of  judgment  mani- 
fested by  society  as  a  body,  and  the  high  value  of  any 
means  which  would  tend  to  supply  the  deficiency,  have 
been  developed  and  declared  on  numerous  occasions, 
by  authority  far  above  any  I  possess.  The  deficiency 
is  known  hypothetically,  but  I  doubt  if  in  reality ;  the 
individual  acknowledges  the  state  in  respect  of  others, 
but  is  unconscious  of  it  in  regard  to  himself  As  to  the 
world  at  large,  the  condition  is  accepted  as  a  necessary 
fact;  and  so  it  is  left  untouched,  almost  ignored.  I 
think  that  education  in  a  large  sense  should  be  applied 


222  PROFESSOR  FARADAY 

to  this  state  of  the  subject,  and  that  society,  though  it 
can  do  little  in  the  way  of  communicated  experience, 
can  do  much,  by  a  declaration  of  the  evil  that  exists  and 
of  its  remediable  character;  by  keeping  alive  a  sense 
of  the  deficiency  to  be  supplied ;  and  by  directing  the 
minds  of  men  to  the  practice  and  enlargement  of  that 
self-education  which  every  one  pursues  more  or  less,  but 
which,  under  conviction  and  method,  would  produce  a 
tenfold  amount  of  good,  I  know  that  the  multitude  will 
always  be  behindhand  in  this  education,  and  to  a  far 
greater  extent  than  in  respect  of  the  education  which 
is  founded  on  book  learning.  Whatever  advance  books 
make,  they  retain  ;  but  each  new  being  comes  on  to  the 
stage  of  life,  with  the  same  average  amount  of  conceit, 
desires,  and  passions,  as  his  predecessors,  and  in  respect 
of  self-education  has  all  to  learn.  Does  the  circum- 
stance that  we  can  do  little  more  than  proclaim  the 
necessity  of  instruction  justify  the  ignorance }  or  our 
silence  ?  or  make  the  plea  for  this  education  less  strong  ? 
Should  it  not,  on  the  contrary,  gain  its  strength  from 
the  fact  that  all  are  wanting  more  or  less }  I  desire  we 
should  admit  that,  as  a  body,  we  are  universally  de- 
ficient in  judgment  I  do  not  mean  that  we  are  utterly 
ignorant,  but  that  we  have  advanced  only  a  little  way  in 
the  requisite  education,  compared  with  what  is  within 
our  power. 

If  the  necessity  of  the  education  of  the  judgment  were 
a  familiar  and  habitual  idea  with  the  public,  it  would 
often  afford  a  sufficient  answer  to  the  statement  of  an 
ill-informed  or  incompetent  person  ;  if  quoted  to  recall 
to  his  remembrance  the  necessity  of  a  mind  instructed 
in  a  matter,  and  accustomed  to  balance  evidence,  it 
might  frequently  be  in  answer  to  the  individual  himsel£ 


ON  THE  EDUCATION   OF   THE  JUDGMENT.        223 

Adverse  influence  might,  and  would,  arise  from  the  care- 
less, the  confident,  the  presumptuous,  the  hasty,  and  the 
dilator^'  man,  perhaps  extreme  opposition  ;  but  I  believe 
that  the  mere  acknowledgment  and  proclamation  of  the 
ignorance,  by  society  at  large,  would,  through  its  mora! 
influence,  destroy  the  opposition,  and  be  a  great  means 
to  the  attainment  of  the  good  end  desired :  for  if  no 
more  be  done  than  to  lead  such  to  turn  their  thoughts 
inwards,  a  step  in  education  is  gained :  if  they  are  rofi- 
vinced  in  any  degree,  an  important  advance  is  made ;  if 
they  learn  only  to  suspend  their  judgment,  the  improve- 
ment will  be  one  above  price. 

It  is  an  extraordinary  thing  that  man,  with  a  mind  so 
wonderful  that  there  is  nothing  to  compare  with  it  else- 
where in  the  known  creation,  should  leave  it  to  run  wild 
in  respect  of  its  highest  elements  and  qualities.  He  has 
a  power  of  comparison  and  judgment,  by  which  his  final 
resolves,  and  all  those  acts  of  his  material  system  which 
distinguish  him  from  the  brutes,  are  guided :  shall  he 
omit  to  educate  and  improve  them  when  education  can 
do  much }  Is  it  towards  the  very  principles  and  pri- 
vileges that  distinguish  him  above  other  creatures,  he 
should  feel  indifference  ?  Because  the  education  is  in- 
ternal, it  is  not  the  less  needful ;  nor  is  it  more  the  duty 
of  a  man  that  he  should  cause  his  child  to  be  taught 
than  that  he  should  teach  himself  Indolence  may 
tempt  him  to  neglect  the  self-examination  and  expe- 
rience which  form  his  school,  and  weariness  may  induce 
the  evasion  of  the  necessary  practices ;  but  surely  a 
thought  of  the  prize  should  suffice  to  stimulate  him  to 
the  requisite  exertion :  and  to  those  who  reflect  upon 
the  many  hours  and  days,  devoted  by  a  lover  of  sweet 
sounds,  to  gain  a  moderate  facility  upon  a  mere  me- 


224       ON   THE  EDUCATION   OF  THE  JUDGMENT. 

chanical  instrument,  it  ought  to  bring  a  correcting  blush 
of  shame,  if  they  feel  convicted  of  neglecting  the  beau- 
tiful living  instrument,  wherein  play  all  the  powers  of 
the  mind. 

I  will  conclude  this  subject ; — believe  me  when  I  say 
T  have  been  speaking  from  self-conviction.  I  did  not 
think  this  an  occasion  on  which  I  ought  to  seek  for 
flattering  words  regarding  our  common  nature ;  if  so,  I 
should  have  felt  unfaithful  to  the  trust  I  had  taken  up ; 
so  I  have  spoken  from  experience.  In  thought  I  hear 
the  voice,  which  judges  me  by  the  precepts  I  have 
uttered.  I  know  that  I  fail  frequently  in  that  very 
exercise  of  judgment  to  which  I  call  others ;  and  have 
abundant  reason  to  believe  that  much  more  frequently 
I  stand  manifest  to  those  around  me  as  one  who  errs, 
without  being  corrected  by  knowing  it.  I  would  will- 
ingly have  evaded  appearing  before  you  on  this  subject, 
for  I  shall  probably  do  but  little  good,  and  may  well 
think  it  was  an  error  of  judgment  to  consent :  having 
consented,  my  thoughts  would  flow  back  amongst  the 
events  and  reflections  of  my  past  life,  until  I  found 
nothing  present  itself  but  an  open  declaration,  almost 
a  confession,  as  the  means  of  performing  the  duty  due 
to  the  subject  and  to  you. 


ON  THE  INFLUENCE 

OF  THE    HISTORY   OF   SCIENCE   UPON 

INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION. 


A  LECTURE  DELIVERED  AT  THE  ROYAL  INSTITUTION 
OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 


WILLIAM  WHEWELL*  D.D.,  F.ILa 


ON  THE 
SCIENTIFIC  HISTORY  OF  EDUCATION. 


The  managers  of  the  Royal  Institution  having  deter- 
mined to  provide  for  their  members  and  others  a  series 
of  Lectures  upon  Education,  and  having  expressed  their 
wish  that  I  should  offer  to  the  audience  here  assembled 
any  views  which  may  appear  to  me  suited  to  such  a 
purpose,  I  venture  to  do  so,  relying  upon  an  indulgence 
which  I  have  more  than  once  experienced  here  on  simi- 
lar occasions.  Of  such  indulgence  I  strongly  feel  the 
need,  on  various  accounts,  but  especially  on  these  two — 
first,  that  being  so  unfrequently  in  this  metropolis,  I  do 
not  know  what  trains  of  thought  are  passing  in  the 
minds  of  the  greater  part  of  my  audience,  who  live  in 
the  midst  of  a  stimulation  produced  by  the  lively  inter- 
change of  opinion  and  discussion  on  the  prominent 
questions  of  the  day,  to  one  of  which  what  I  have  now 
to  say  in  a  great  degree  refers ;  and  next,  that  in  this 
hall,  where  you  are  accustomed  to  listen  to  the  most 
lively  explanations  of  scientific  discoveries,  illustrated  by 
the  most  skilful  and  striking  experiments,  /  have  to  pre- 
sent to  you  a  series  of  remarks  on  subjects  more  or  less 
abstract  and  vague,  without  being  able  to  aid  my  expo- 
sition by  anything  addressed  to  the  eye.  The  pictures 
which  words  can  give  of  abstruse  and  general  mental 


2lS  DR.  WHEWELL  ON  THE 

conceptions,  when  they  alone  form  a  diorama  on  which 
the  mental  eye  of  an  assembly  is  to  be  directed  for  a 
whole  hour,  always  appear  to  me  to  be  in  great  danger 
of  fading  away  into  a  dream  of  cloudland  or  a  vacant 
blank.  However,  as  to  that  point,  I  have  an  advantage 
in  speaking  on  the  History  of  Science,  which  is  my 
present  subject,  in  this  room.  To  those  of  you  who  are 
in  the  habit  of  coming  here,  the  walls  must  appear,  from 
their  customary  aspect,  to  be  hung  with  pictures  which 
illustrate  my  theme.  The  striking  facts  in  the  history  of 
science  which  j'ou  have  presented  to  you  in  this  place, 
week  after  week,  are  illustrations,  in  particular  cases,  of 
the  general  views  which  I  have  to  offer  to  you  ;  and  if 
such  expressions  as  experience  and  tJieory,  discovery  and 
generalization,  Baconian  ascents  to  comprehensive  axioms, 
and  descaits  thence  to  wonderful  works — if  such  expres- 
sions be  in  danger  of  being  to  others  vague  and  empty 
sounds,  to  you  they  will  be,  I  may  trust,  all  enlivened 
and  embodied  by  what  you  have  again  and  again  seen 
here. 

The  subject  on  which  I  am  desirous  of  making  a  few 
remarks  to  you  at  present  is  this :  Tlie  Injluetue  of 
Scientific  Discovery  upon  Intellectual  Education: — the 
influence  of  the  scientific  discoveries  of  any  period  upon 
the  intellectual  education  of  the  succeeding  period :  the 
influence,  that  is,  of  the  intellectual  achievements  of  one 
or  two  gifted  men,  at  various  epochs  of  the  world's  his- 
tory, upon  all  those  persons,  in  the  next  succeeding 
generations,  who  have  aimed  to  obtain,  for  themselves  oi 
for  their  children,  the  highest  culture,  the  best  discipline, 
of  which  man's  intellectual  faculties  are  capable.  I  wish 
to  show  that  there  has  been  such  an  influence,  and  that 
it   has  been  great  at  all  periods ;   that  is,  at  all  those 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY   OF  EDUCATION.  2 29 

periods  of  intellectual  energy  and  activity  which  come 
within  the  conditions  of  the  terms  ; — all  periods  which 
have  been  periods  of  discovery.  I  wish  to  show  that  this 
influence  has  been  so  great,  that  its  results  constitute,  at 
this  day,  the  whole  of  our  intellectual  education ; — that 
in  virtue  of  this  influence,  intellectual  education  has  been, 
for  those  who  avail  themselves  of  the  means  which  time 
has  accumulated,  progressive ; — that  our  intellectual  edu- 
cation now,  to  be  worthy  of  the  time,  ought  to  include 
in  its  compass  elements  contributed  to  it  in  every  one  of 
the  great  epochs  of  mental  energy  which  the  world  has 
seen ; — that  in  this  respect,  most  especially,  we  are,  if 
we  know  how  to  use  our  advantages,  inheritors  of  the 
wealth  of  all  the  richest  times ;  strong  in  the  power  of 
the  giants  of  all  ages ;  placed  on  the  summit  of  an 
edifice  which  thirty  centuries  have  been  employed  in 
building. 

Perhaps  I  shall  most  simply  make  myself  intelligible 
by  stating  plainly  and  frankly  a  proposition  which  I  wish 
to  illustrate  by  various  examples,  as  it  has  been  exem- 
plified in  various  ages  and  countries.  The  proposition  is 
this :  That  every  great  advance  in  intellectual  education 
has  been  the  effect  of  some  considerable  scientific  dis- 
covery, or  group  of  discoveries.  Every  improvement  of 
the  mental  discipline  of  those  who  stand  in  the  forefront 
of  humanity  has  followed  some  signal  victory  of  their 
leaders ;  every  addition  to  the  means  of  intellectual 
culture  has  been  the  result  of  some  extraordinary  har- 
vest, some  more  than  ordinary  bounty  of  the  intellectual 
soil,  bestowed  on  the  preceding  years. 

Without  further  preface,  let  us  proceed  to  examples. 
The  first  great  attempt  made  for  the  improvement  of 
intellectual  education,  so  far  as  history  tells  us,  was  that 


230  DR.   WHEWELL   ON   THE 

undertaken  and  prosecuted  with  persevering  vigour  by 
Socrates  and  Plato.  The  aim  of  those  philosophers  was, 
I  say,  mainly  and  peculiarly,  an  improvement  of  the 
intellectual  education  of  their  countrymen.  The  Athe- 
nians of  that  time, — I  mean,  the  more  eminent  and 
aftluent  classes  of  them, — had  already  an  education  in 
a  very  considerable  degree  elaborate,  and  large  and 
elevated  in  its  promises.  The  persons  by  whom  this 
education  was,  in  its  higher  departments,  conducted — 
the  teachers  whom  Socrates  and  Plato  perseveringly 
opposed — have  been  habitually  called  the  Sophists ; 
because,  though  at  the  time  their  ascendancy  was 
immense,  in  the  course  of  ages  Plato's  writings  have 
superseded  theirs,  and  he  so  describes  them.  But  it  has 
been  shown  recently,  in  the  most  luminous  and  striking 
manner,  by  one  among  ourselves,  that  the  education 
which  these  teachers  professed  to  give,  and  frequently 
gave,  was  precisely  what  we  commonly  mean  by  a  good 
education.  It  was  an  education  enabling  a  young  man 
to  write  well,  speak  well,  and  act  efficiently,  on  all  ordi- 
nary occasions,  public  and  private.  The  moral  doctrines 
which  they  taught,  even  according  to  the  most  unfa- 
vourable representation  of  them,  were  no  worse  than 
the  moral  doctrines  which  are  most  commonly  taught 
among  ourselves  at  the  present  day, — the  morality 
founded  upon  utility;  but  many  of  them  repudiated  this 
doctrine  as  sordid  and  narrow,  and  professed  higher 
principles,  which  they  delivered  in  graceful  literary  forms, 
some  of  which  are  still  extant  in  the  books  which  wc  put 
in  the  hands  of  the  young. 

Such  were  the  Sophists,  against  whom  Socrates  and 
Plato  carried  on  their  warfare.  And  why  did  Socrates 
and  Plato  contend  against  these  teachers  ;  and  how  waa 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY   OF   EDUCATION.  23 1 

it  that  they  contended  so  successfully,  that  the  sympathy 
of  all  posterity  has  been  with  them  in  their  opposition  ? 
It  was  because  Socrates  and  Plato  sought  for  solid  prin- 
ciples in  this  specious  teaching,  and  found  none.  It  was 
because,  while  these  professors  of  speaking  well  and 
acting  well  imparted  their  precepts  to  their  pupils,  'and 
exemplified  them  by  their  practice,  they  could  not  bear 
the  keen  cross-questioning  of  Socrates,  when  he  tried  to 
make  them  tell  what  it  was  to  speak  WELL,  and  to  act 
WELL  ;  they  could  not  tell  Plato  what  was  that  "  First 
Good,  First  Perfect,  and  First  Fair,"  from  which  every- 
thing else  derived  goodness,  beauty,  and  perfection. 
Socrates  and  Plato  were  not  content  with  illustrations, 
they  asked  for  principles  ;  they  were  not  content  with 
rhetoric,  they  wanted  demonstration  :  it  was  not  enough 
for  them  that  these  men  taught  the  young  Athenian  to 
persuade  others,  they  wanted  to  have  him  knoiu,  and  to 
know  what  he  knew.  These  were  the  demands,  as  you 
will  many  of  you  recollect,  that  recur  again  and  again 
in  the  Platonic  Dialogues.  This  is  the  tendency  of 
all  the  trains  of  irresistible  logic  which  are  put  in  the 
mouth  of  Plato's  imaginary  Socrates.  What  do  we 
know  .-*  How  do  we  know  it .-'  By  what  reasoning  f  From 
what  principles  ?  These  questions  are  perpetually  asked. 
They  are  never  completely  answered.  The  respondent 
always  breaks  down  at  some  point  or  other ;  and  then 
Socrates  says,  with  his  calm  irony,  "  How  disappoint- 
ing !  How  vexatious !  We  are  where  we  were  !  We 
•must  begin  again.  We  have  not  yet  found  what  we 
were  seeking.  We  have  not  yet  got  hold  of  the  real 
and  essential  truth." 

And  what  was   it  that  had  put  Socrates  and  Plato 
upon  this  eager   and   obstinate   search   of  a  real  and 
16 


232  DR.  WHEWELL  ON  THE 

essential  truth  ?  How  was  it  they  could  not  be  satisfied 
without  it  ?  Why  might  not  that  which  had  been 
taught  by  the  wise  and  eloquent  men  of  previous  gene- 
rations suffice  for  their  generation  ?  Why  must  their 
inquiries  go  further  than  the  inquiries  of  their  ancestors 
had  done  ?  This  real  and  essential  truth  which  they 
sought,  what  had  put  the  notion  of  it  into  their  heads  ? 
What  had  made  them  think  that  such  a  thing  could  be 
found  ?  Had  they  seen  any  example  of  such  truth ; 
had  they  seen  any  specimen  of  this  treasure,  which  they 
sought  for  with  so  vehement  and  persevering  a  quest  ? 

Yes:  for  this  is  the  point  to  which  I  wish  to  draw 
your  attention  ;  they  had  seen  specimens  of  this  trea- 
sure. They  had  had  placed  before  them  examples  of 
real  and  certain  truth ;  they  had  been  admitted  to  con- 
template clear  and  indisputable  truths ;  truths  which 
they  could  demonstrate  to  be  true ;  truths  which  they 
could  trace  to  principles  of  intuitive  evidence ;  truths 
which  it  did  not  appear  to  be  speaking  too  highly  of, 
if  they  called  them  necessary  and  eternal. 

Such  truths  they  had  already  seen  and  known  ;  for 
they  had  known  some  of  the  truths  of  geometry.  No 
doubt  some  of  these  truths, — the  truths  of  geometry, — 
some  casual  and  happy  guesses — had  been  known  at  a 
much  earlier  period.  Pythagoras  had  known  that  the 
squares  on  the  two  sides  of  a  right-angled  triangle  are 
equal  to  the  square  on  the  third.  But  the  lore  of 
Pythagoras,  imparted  in  a  mysterious  manner  to  an 
initiated  few,  had  long  crept  stealthily  among  the  secret 
societies  of  the  Italian  coast,  and  hardly  made  its  way, 
in  any  considerable  degree,  into  Greece,  till  it  was  intro- 
duced by  Plato  and  his  friends.  But  the  age  of  Plato 
was  an  age  of  great  geometrical  discovery  in  Greece; 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY  OF  EDUCATION.  233 

The  general  body  of  geometry,  such  as  it  exists  to  thia 
day,  was  then  constructed.  Plato  himself  was  an 
eminent  geometer,  not  only  by  geometrical  discoveries 
which  he  made,  but  still  more  by  his  clear  and  strong 
perception  of  the  importance  of  the  study.  He  repeat- 
edly exhorts  his  fellow-countrymen  to  pursue  this  study  ; 
he  promises  that  it  shall  lead  them  to  a  true  view  of  the 
heavens ;  he  discerns  how  this  is  to  be  done  ;  he  points 
out  new  branches  of  mathematical  science  which  must 
be  constructed  for  this  purpose  ;  he  repeatedly  refers  to 
the  Definitions,  the  Axioms,  the  Proofs  of  Geometrical 
Propositions  ;  he  writes  over  the  gate  of  the  gardens  of 
Academus,  where  his  disciples  meet  to  listen  to  his 
teaching — OvSeiq  dyeofxirpt]TO<i  elcriro).  "Let  no  one 
enter  who  is  destitute  of  Geometry." 

And  why  this  requirement .-'  Why  this  prohibition  } 
What  was  the  need  of  Geometry  for  his  disciples } 
What*  use  was  he  to  make  of  it  ?  What  inference  was 
he  to  draw  from  it  when  they  had  it  ? 

Precisely  the  inference  which  I  have  mentioned ; — that 
there  was  a  certain  and  solid  truth ;  a  knowledge  which 
was  not  mere  opinion ;  science  which  was  more  than 
seeming:  that  man  has  powers  by  which  such  truth, 
such  knowledge,  such  science,  may  be  acquired ;  that 
therefore  it  ought  to  be  sought,  not  in  geometry  alone, 
but  in  other  subjects  also ;  that  since  man  can  know, 
certainly  and  clearly,  about  straight  and  curved  in  the 
world  of  space,  he  ought  to  know, — he  ought  not  to  be 
content  without  knowing, — no  less  clearly  and  certainly, 
about  right  and  wrong  in  the  world  of  human  action. 
That  man  has  such  powers,  was  the  beginning  of  Plato's 
philosophy.  To  use  them  for  such  purposes  was  the 
constant  aim  of  his  mental  activity.     The  impression 


234  DR.  WHEWELL  ON   THE 

which  had  been  left  upon  his  mind  by  the  geometrical 
achievements  of  his  contemporaries,  and  by  those  which 
he  himself  began,  was,  that  the  powers  by  which  such 
discoveries  are  made  are  evidences  of  the  exalted  nature 
of  the  human  mind  ;  of  its  vast  profundity;  of  its  lofty 
destiny.  He  repeatedly,  and  with  obvious  gratification, 
refers  to  geometrical  truths  as  evidences  of  the  nature 
of  the  human  mind,  and  even  of  its  hope  of  immortality. 
Since  the  mind  can  thus  reason  to  certain  truths,  it  must 
have  in  it  the  principles  of  tntth ;  and  whence  did  it 
derive  them  ?  Since  it  can  know  what  it  has  not  learned 
from  the  senses,  it  must  have  some  ot/ter  source  of  know- 
ledge ;  and  how  much  is  implied  in  this !  Since  it  can 
conceive  and  bring  forth  eternal  truths,  how  can  it  be 
the  child  of  a  day,  a  transient  creature,  born  one  moment 
and  perishing  the  next  ? 

Perhaps  it  may  serve  to  add  distinctness  to  the  ac- 
count I  am  trying  to  give  you  of  Plato's  teaching,  if  I 
give  you,  in  his  own  way,  an  example  of  this  teaching 
of  his.  It  shall  be  very  brief  In  Plato's  Dialogue, 
called  Mcno,  Socrates,  in  discourse  with  Meno  the  Thes- 
salian,  is  trying  to  discover  what  Virtue  is :  and  pressing 
his  inquiry  from  point  to  point,  and  finding  the  truth 
perpetually  escape  him,  he  is  led  to  ask,  at  last,  "  What 
is  meant  by  discovering  anything.^  Can  we  do  it  .^  If 
so,  how } "  And  on  this,  with  more  of  direct  assertion 
than  he  commonly  ventures  upon,  he  declares  that  we 
can  do  it,  and  that  he  will  show  how  we  do  it.  He  calls 
up  a  young  and  intelligent  boy,  an  attendant  of  Meno, 
and  he  propounds  to  him  a  geometrical  problem,  simple, 
yet  not  quite  obvious.  He  draws  a  diagram  in  the  sand, 
and  asks  him  various  questions  as  to  the  lines  which 
lerve  to  illustrate  this  problem ;  and  the  boy,  though  at 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY   OF   EDUCATION.  235 

first  he  says  he  does  not  know,  is  soon  led  to  answer 
rightly  to  these  interrogations,  by  his  natural  apprehen- 
sion of  the  relations  of  space.  At  every  step,  Socrates 
says,  "You  see  I  tell  him  nothing.  He  goes  on  towards 
the  truth,  but  I  do  not  teach  him.  He  finds  it  in  his 
own  mind.  He  does  not  learn  from  another,  he  recollects 
what  he  has  already  known.  His  knowledge  is  recollec- 
tion.    His  science  is  reminiscence." 

This  doctrine — that  knowledge  is  recollection,  that 
science  is  reminiscence — is  the  main  result  deduced  in 
the  Meno  from  this  geometrical  investigation.  In  that 
Dialogue,  as  I  have  said,  the  doctrine  is  applied  to  illus- 
trate the  nature  of  the  discovery  of  truth  in  general. 
In  the  Phedo — that  Dialogue  which  has  so  deeply  moved 
thoughtful  men  in  every  age,  in  which  Socrates,  standing 
before  the  gates  of  death,  reasons  with  his  weeping 
friends  as  to  what  he  shall  find  beyond  them — this  same 
doctrine  is  employed  to  warm  their  hopes  and  elevate 
their  thoughts.  Since,  it  is  argued,  the  soul  tl\us  contains 
in  itself  the  principles  of  eternal  truth,  it  must  be  itself 
eternal.  But  it  is  not  with  this  purpose  that  I  here  refer 
to  the  use  thus  made  of  geometrical  reasoning.  My 
object  is  to  establish  this  view : — that  the  great  step  in 
pure  scientific  discovery,  made  by  the  Greeks  of  Plato's 
time, — the  construction  of  a  connected  and  comprehen- 
sive body  of  geometrical  truths,  led  to  the  conviction 
that  geometry  was  an  immensely  valuable  element  in 
intellectual  education.  The  apprehensions  of  such  truths 
threw  a  new  light  upon  the  nature  of  all  truth,  and  the 
means  of  attaining  to  it.  It  was  seen  that,  thenceforth, 
they  who  were  altogether  ignorant  of  geometry,  were 
destitute  of  the  best  means  then  known,  of  showing 
them  what  is  the  frenuine  aspect  of  essential  trutJi.— 


236  DR.   WHEWELL  ON   THE 

wliat  is  the  nature  of  the  intellectual  vision  by  wliich  if 
is  seen, — what  is  the  consciousness  of  intuitive  power  on 
which  its  foundations  rest.  And  thus,  in  virtue  of  the 
geometrical  discoveries  of  the  Platonic  epoch,  geometry 
became  a  part  of  the  discipline  of  the  Platonic  school ; — 
became  the  starting  point  of  the  Platonic  reformation  of 
the  intellectual  education  of  Athens; — became  an  ele- 
ment of  a  liberal  education.  And  not  only  became  so 
then,  but  has  continued  so  to  this  day:  so  that  among 
ourselves,  and  in  every  other  countr}'  of  high  cultivation, 
no  education  is  held  to  be  raised  on  good  foundations 
which  does  not  include  geometry, — elcmevtary  geometry, 
at  least, — among  its  component  portions.  And  thus,  in 
our  Education,  as  in  our  Science,  the  completest  form, 
in  the  latest  time,  includes  and  assumes  the  earliest  steps 
of  real  progress :  and  this  is  so,  in  the  one  case  as  in  the 
other,  because  the  one  must  always  depend  on  the  other ; 
because  the  progress  of  Education  is  affected,  at  every 
great  and  principal  step,  by  the  progress  of  Science. 

You  will  not  be  surprised  to  be  thus  told  that  our 
modern  education  has  derived  something  from  the 
ancient  Greek  education,  because  you  know  that  our 
modern  science  has  derived  much  from  the  ancient 
Greek  science.  You  know  that  our  science,  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  term,  has  derived  little  from  the 
ancient  Romans; — little,  that  is,  which  is  original;  and 
therefore  you  will  not  be  surprised,  if  our  education  have 
derived  little  from  the  Roman  education.  If  the  fact 
were  so,  it  would  still  be  a  negative  illustration  of  the 
doctrine  which  I  am  trying  to  elucidate ;  the  dependence 
of  the  progress  of  education  on  the  progress  of  science. 
But  if  we  take  the  term  science  in  a  somewhat  wider 
acceptation,  we  shall  derive  from  the  Roman  history, 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY  OF  EDUCATION.  237 

not  a  negative,  but  2^  positive  exemplification  of  our  pro- 
position. For  in  that  wider  sense,  there  is  a  science  of 
which  Rome  was  the  mother,  as  Greece  was  of  geometry 
and  mathematics.  The  term  Science  may  be  extended 
so  widely,  as  to  allow  us  to  speak  of  the  Science  of  Law 
— meaning  the  doctrine  of  Rights  and  Obligations,  in 
its  most  definite  and  yet  most  comprehensive  form  ; — in 
short,  the  Science  of  Jurisprudence.  In  this  science, 
the  Romans  were  really  great  discoverers ;  or  rather,  it 
was  they  who  made  the  subject  a  science, — who  gave  it 
the  precision  of  a  science,  the  generality  of  a  science, 
the  method  of  a  science.  And  how  effectually  they  did 
this  we  may  judge,  from  the  fact  that  the  jurisprudence 
of  Rome  is  still  the  basis,  the  model,  the  guide,  the  core 
of  the  jurisprudence  of  every  civilized  country;  of  our 
own  less  than  most,  but  still,  in  no  small  degree,  of  our 
own.  The  imitators  and  pupils  of  the  Greeks  in  every 
other  department  of  human  speculation,  in  jurisprudence 
the  Romans  felt  themselves  their  masters.  Cicero  says, 
proudly,  but  not  too  proudly,  that  a  single  page  of  a 
Roman  jurist  contained  more  solid  and  exact  matter 
than  a  whole  library  of  Greek  philosophers.  The  labours 
of  jurists  deserving  this  character,  which  thus  began 
before  Cicero,  continued  through  the  empire,  to  its  fall ; 
— continued  even  beyond  its  fall.  As  Horace  tells  us 
that  captive  Greece  captived  the  conqueror  and  taught 
him  arts  ;  so  Rome  subdued,  subdued  the  victor  hordes, 
and  taught  them  law.  The  laws  of  Rome  gave  method 
to  the  codes  of  the  northern  nations,  and  are  the  origin 
of  much,  that  is  most  scientific  in  the  more  recent  sys- 
tems of  legislation.  That  general  law  is  a  science,  we 
owe  to  the  Romans;  and  we  in  England  may  be  re- 
minded of  this,  by  our  inability  to  translate  the  Roman 


238  DR.  WHEWELL   ON   THE 

word  by  which  this  science  is  described  :  for  though  the 
term,  Jtis,  is  the  root  of  Jurist,  and  jurisprudence,  and 
the  hke,  it  is,  as  yet,  hardly  naturalized  in  its  technical 
sense,  as  designating  the  general  Doctrine  of  Rights  and 
Obligations;  nor  have  we  any  word  which  has  that 
meaning,  as  Droit  has  in  French,  and  Recht  in  German. 

Here  is  a  great  science,  then,  of  which  the  discoverers 
were  the  Romans :  can  we  trace,  as  according  to  our 
view  we  ought  to  be  able  to  trace,  any  corresponding 
great  step  in  intellectual  discipline  ?  Was  jus  a  pro- 
minent part  of  Roman  education  ?  Is  Roman  juris- 
prudence a  prominent  part  in  the  liberal  education  in 
modern  times  ?  To  both  these  questions  we  must  answer 
most  emphatically,  Yes.  The  law  of  Rome  was  the  main 
part  of  the  education  of  the  Roman  youth.  Cicero  re- 
minds his  brother  Quintius,  that  they  had  learnt  the  old 
laws,  and  the  formulae  of  legal  proceedings,  by  heart  as 
a  sort  of  domestic  catechism  or  nursery  rhyme.  Every 
Roman  of  eminence  spent  the  early  part  of  his  morning 
in  giving  legal  opinions  to  his  clients : — not  like  our 
Justice  of  the  Peace,  when  appealed  to  as  a  magis- 
trate, but  as  an  adviser  and  protector;  and  every  young 
member  of  the  aristocracy  had  to  fit  himself  for  this 
office.  Every  young  Roman  of  condition  was  a  Roman 
jurist  And  the  study  of  the  law,  thus  made  a  leading 
branch  of  a  liberal  education,  continued  so  through  the 
middle  ages — continues  so  still.  It  occupied  the  great 
Italian  universities — Bologna,  Pisa,  Padua,  and  the  like 
—in  the  darkest  part  of  the  dark  ages.  It  occupies 
most  of  the  universities  of  Europe  to  this  day.  The 
Roman  law  is  still  the  main  clement  of  the  liberal  edu- 
cation of  Italy,  of  Germany,  of  Greece,  and,  in  some 
d^ree,   even   of   France  and  Spain.     In   Germany  its 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY   OF   EDUCATION.  239 

prevalence  has  been  such,  that  in  recent  times  all  the 
great  moral  controversies  have  been  debated  in  the 
most  strenuous  and  searching  manner  in  terms  of  the 
Civil  Law,  as  the  Roman  law  is  still  called  all  over 
Europe.  And  we  shall  hardly  doubt,  if  we  look  into  the 
matter,  that  these  legal  studies  have  given  to  the  well- 
educated  men  of  those  countries  a  precision  of  thought, 
and  an  exactness  of  logic  on  moral  subjects,  which, 
without  such  a  study,  would  not  liave  been  likely  to 
prevail.  To  define  a  Right  or  Obligation,  to  use  proper 
terms  in  framing  a  law,  in  delivering  a  judicial  sentence, 
in  giving  a  legal  opinion,  is  precisely  the  merit  of  an  ac- 
complished jurist ;  as  is  emphatically  asserted  by  Cicero. 
And  even  our  own  law,  fragmentary  and  unscientific  as 
it  is,  is  not  without  a  value  of  the  same  kind,  as  an 
instrument  of  a  liberal  education.  It  may  be  a  means 
of  giving  exactness  to  the  thoughts,  method  and  clear- 
ness to  the  reasoning,  precision  to  the  expressions  of 
men,  on  the  general  interests  of  man  and  of  society ; 
and  is  so  recommended,  and  often  so  employed,  by  those 
who  are  preparing  for  active  life.  Of  the  moral  sciences, 
without  some  study  of  which  no  education  can  be  com- 
plete, the  science  of  jurisprudence  is  most  truly  a  science, 
and  most  effectually  a  means  of  intellectual  discipline. 
And,  as  you  see,  the  use  of  such  discipline  in  education 
dates  from  the  period  of  that  great  advance  in  specu- 
lation on  moral  subjects  and  social  relations,  by  which 
jurisprudence  became  a  science. 

And  thus  two  of  the  great  elements  of  a  thorough 
intellectual  culture,  Mathematics  and  Jurisprudence,  are 
an  inheritance  which  we  derive  from  ages  long  gone  by 
from  two  great  nations — from  the  two  great  nations  of 
antiquity.     They  are  the  results  of  ancient  triumphs  oi 


Z40  DR    WHEWELL  ON   THE 

man's  spirit  over  the  confusion  and  obscurity  of  the 
aspects  of  the  external  world ;  and  even  over  the  way- 
wardness and  unregulated  impulses  of  his  own  nature, 
and  the  entanglements  and  conflicts  of  human  society. 
And  being  true  sciences,  they  were  well  fitted  to  become, 
as  they  became,  and  were  fitted  to  continue,  as  they 
have  hitherto  continued,  to  be  main  elements  in  that 
discipline  by  which  man  is  to  raise  himself  above  him- 
self; is  to  raise — since  that  is  especially  what  we  have 
now  to  consider — his  intellect  into  an  habitual  condition, 
superior  to  the  rudeness,  dimness,  confusion,  laxity,  in- 
security, to  which  the  undisciplined  impulses  of  human 
thought  in  all  ages  and  nations  commonly  lead.. 

And  before  we  proceed  any  further,  let  us  consider, 
for  an  instant,  that  such  an  education,  consisting  of  the 
elements  which  I  have  mentioned,  might  be,  and  would 
be,  in  well  conducted  cases,  an  education  of  no  common 
excellence,  even  according  to  our  present  standard  of 
a  good  intellectual  education.  A  mind  well  disciplined 
in  elementary  geometry  and  in  general  jurisprudence, 
would  be  as  well  prepared  as  mere  discipline  can  make 
a  mind,  for  most  trains  of  human  speculation  and  rea- 
soning. The  mathematical  portion  of  such  an  education 
would  give  clear  habits  of  logical  deduction,  and  a  per- 
ception of  the  delight  of  demonstration  ;  while  the  moral 
portion  of  the  education,  as  we  may  call  jurisprudence, 
would  guard  the  mind  from  the  defect,  sometimes 
ascribed  to  mere  mathematicians,  of  seeing  none  but 
mathematical  proofs,  and  applying  to  all  cases  mathe- 
matical processes.  A  young  man  well  imbued  with 
these,  the  leading  elements  of  Athenian  and  Roman 
culture,  would,  we  need  not  fear  to  say,  be  superior  in 
intellectual  discipline  to  three-fourths  of  tTie  young  men 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY   OF   EDUCATION.  24 1 

of  our  own  day,  on  whom  all  the  ordinary  appliances  of 
what  is  called  a  good  education  have  been  bestowed. 
Geometer  and  jurist,  the  pupil  formed  by  this  culture  of 
the  old  world  might  make  no  bad  figure  among  the  men 
of  letters  or  of  science,  the  lawyers  and  the  politicians, 
of  our  own  times. 

But  there  is  another  remark  which  I  must  make, 
tending  to  show  the  defect  of  this  education  of  anti- 
quity, as  compared  with -the  intellectual  eaucation  of 
our  own  times ;  or  rather,  as  compared  with  what  the 
education  of  our  own  times  ought  to  be.  The  subjects 
which  I  have  mentioned,  geometry  and  jurisprudence, 
are  both  deductive  sciences  ; — sciences  in  which,  from 
certain  first  principles,  by  chains  of  proof,  conclusions 
are  deduced  which  constitute  the  doctrines  of  the 
science.  In  the  one  case,  geometry,  these  first  prin- 
ciples are  given  by  intuition  ;  in  the  other,  jurisprudence, 
they  are  either  rules  instituted  by  authority  and  con- 
sent, or  general  principles  of  human  nature  and  human 
society,  obtained  from  experience  interpreted  by  our 
own  human  consciousness.  We  deduce  properties  of 
diagrams  from  geometrical  axioms  ;  we  deduce  decisions 
of  cases  from  legal  maxims.  Jurisprudence,  no  less  than 
geometry,  is  a  deductive  science ;  and  has  been  compared 
with  geometry,  by  its  admirers,  for  the  exactness  of  its 
deductive  processes.  They  have  said  (Leibnitz  and 
others)  that  jural  demonstrations  are  as  fine  examples 
of  logic  as  mathematical ;  and  that  pure  reason  alone 
determines  every  expression  of  a  good  jurist,  no  less 
than  of  a  good  mathematician ;  so  that  there  is  no  room 
for  that  play  of  individual  character,  which  shows  itself 
in  the  difference  of  style  of  different  authors.  But 
however  perfectly  the  habits  of  deduction  may  be  taught 


242  DR.  WHEWELL  ON   THE 

by  these  studies,  such  teaching  cannot,  according  to  the 
enlarged  views  of  modern  times,  compose  a  complete 
intellectual  culture.  Induction,  rather  than  deduction, 
is  the  source  of  the  great  scientific  truths  which  form 
the  glory,  and  fasten  on  them  the  admiration  of  modern 
times;  and  a  modern  education  cannot  be  regarded  as 
giving  to  the  intellect  that  culture,  which  the  fulness  of 
time,  and  the  treasures  of  knowledge  now  accumulated, 
render  suitable  and  necessary,  except  it  convey  to  the 
mind  an  adequate  appreciation  of  and  familiarity  with 
the  inductive  process,  by  which  those  treasures  of 
knowledge  have  been  obtained.  As  the  best  sciences 
which  the  ancient  world  framed  supplied  the  best 
elements  of  intellectual  education  up  to  modern  times ; 
so  the  grand  step  by  which,  in  modern  times,  science  has 
sprung  up  into  a  magnitude  and  majesty  far  superior  to 
her  ancient  dimensions,  should  exercise  its  influence  upon 
modern  education,  and  contribute  its  proper  result  to 
modern  intellectual  culture. 

Who  is  to  be  taken  as  the  representative  of  the  great 
epoch  of  the  progress  of  science  in  modern  times ;  that 
is,  beginning  from  the  sixteenth  century  ?  In  different 
ways,  Galileo,  Descartes,  Bacon,  Newton,  may  seem  best 
suited  to  occupy  that  position.  But  Galileo's  immediate 
influence  was  limited,  both  as  to  subjects  and  as  to  the 
number  of  admirers.  It  was  when  Descartes  summed 
up  into  a  system  the  discoveries  of  Galileo  and  his  dis- 
ciples, and  added  to  them  inventions  of  his  own,  some 
true,  many  captivating,  that  the  new  physical  philosophy 
acquired  a  large  and  vigorous  hold  upon  Europe  north 
of  the  Alps.  In  France  especially,  always  eager  in  its 
admiration  of  intellectual  greatness,  Descartes  was  un- 
hesitatingly regarded  as  the  great  man  who  brought  in  a 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY  OF   EDUCATION.  243 

new  and  more  enlightened  age  of  philosophy.  Indeed, 
for  a  large  portion  of  philosophy,  he  is  still  so  regarded 
by  French  philosophers ;  and  though  his  influence  in 
metaphysics  is  to  be  distinguished  from  his  authority  in 
physics,  still  the  ascendancy  of  his  more  abstract  and 
general  philosophical  opinions  was  closely  connected 
with  his  recognised  eminence  as  a  physical  philosopher, 
and  Vv'ith  the  admiration  which  his  system  of  the 
universe  obtained.  The  Cartesian  philosophy  was  the 
proclaimed  and  acknowledged  antagonist  of  the  Aristo- 
telian philosophy ;  it  was  the  new  truth  of  which  the 
standard  was  raised  against  the  old  falsehood.  Any 
one  acquainted  with  the  French  literature  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  will  recollect  innumerable  illustrations  of 
this  view  of  the  matter.  You  remember,  perhaps  (as 
an  example),  the  noted  passage  in  Fontenelle's  lively 
dialogues  on  TJie  Plurality  of  Worlds.  There,  the  sages 
of  antiquity,  the  Pythagorases,  Platos,  Aristotles,  are 
represented  as  looking  at  the  spectacle  of  the  universe, 
like  so  many  spectators  in  the  pit  of  the  Opera  House 
looking  at  the  ballet.  The  subject  of  the  ballet  is  sup- 
posed to  be.  Phaeton  carried  away  by  the  winds :  and 
to  represent  this,  the  dancer  who  enacts  the  part  of 
Phaeton,  is  made  to  fly  away  through  the  upper  part  of 
the  s:ene,  to  the  great  admiration  of  the  gazers.  The 
more  speculative  of  these  attempt  to  explain  this  extra- 
ordinary movement  of  Phaeton.  One  says,  "  Phaeton 
has  an  occult  quality,  which  carries  him  away."  This  is 
the  Aristotelian.  Another  says,  "  Phaeton  is  composed 
of  certain  numbers,  which  make  him  move  upwards." 
This  is  the  Pythagorean.  Another  says,  "  Phaeton  has 
a  longing  for  the  top  of  the  theatre.  He  is  not  easy 
till  he  gets  there."     This  is  the  philosophy  which  ex- 


244  I>R.  WHEW  ELL  ON  THE 

plains  the  universe  by  Love  and  Hate.  Another  says, 
"  Phaeton  has  not  naturally  a  tendency  to  fly ;  but  he 
prefers  flying  to  leaving  the  top  of  the  scene  empty." 
This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  fuga  vacui,  nature's  horror  of 
a  vacuum.  And  after  all  this,  says  the  speaker,  comes 
Descartes,  and  some  other  modems ;  and  they  say,  Phae- 
ton goes  up,  because  he  is  drawn  by  certain  cords,  and  a 
weight,  heavier  than  he  is,  goes  down  behind  the  scenes. 
And  in  truth,  the  physical  philosophy  of  Descartes  did 
contain  the  greater  part  of  the  true  explanation  of  the 
phenomena  of  the  universe,  which  was  known  up  to  this 
time.  It  contained  the  principles  of  Mechanics,  with 
few  errors ;  the  principles  of  Optics,  and  the  beautiful 
explanation  of  the  rainbow,  in  the  discovery  of  which 
Descartes  had  so  large  a  share;  and  a  true  system  of 
Astronomy,  so  far  as  the  mere  motions  are  concerned. 
And  Descartes'  peculiar  invention,  the  hypothesis  of 
toiirbillons, — vortices  or  whirlpools  of  celestial  fluid,  by 
which  these  motions  are  produced, — though  false,  was 
not  only  separable  from  the  other  parts  of  the  system, 
but  was  capable,  by  modifications,  of  expressing  many 
mechanical  truths,  as  the  Bernoullis,  and  other  mathema- 
ticians who  retained  it  for  a  century,  often  showed.  In 
England,  as  in  France,  the  Cartesian  philosophy  meant 
the  Mechanical  Philosophy,  as  opposed  to  the  philosophy 
of  sympathies  and  antipathies,  occult  qualities,  arbitrary 
notions  of  Nature,  and  the  like.  The  Cartesian  philo- 
sophy, in  this  sense,  was  introduced  into  England ;  but 
I  doubt  whether  the  doctrine  of  vortices  was  ever  ac- 
cepted here  to  any  considerable  extent.  It  has  been 
made,  I  may  be  allowed  to  say,  ignorantly  and  absurdly 
made,  an  accusation  against  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge, that  the   Cartesian  system    found   acceptance 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY    OF   EDUCATION.  245 

there.  Such  an  event  showed  a  promptitude  in  accept- 
ing new  scientific  views,  which  has  repeatedly  been 
exemplified  there.  But  I  much  doubt  whether  the 
Cartesian  system  was  ever  presented  to  Cambridge 
students,  without  a  refutation  of  the  vortices  being  put 
in  the  notes  on  the  same  page.  Assuredly  it  was  not 
taught  for  more  than  a  io.^  years  in  any  other  form ; 
but  I  believe,  not  at  all.  And  in  like  manner  in  other 
places,  the  new  mechanical  philosophy,  Cartesian  in 
France,  Newtonian  in  England,  rapidly  superseded  the 
verbal  dogmatism  of  the  middle  ages. 

And  with  this  triumph  of  the  new  opinions,  as  a 
revolution  in  science,  came  the  introduction  of  the  new 
doctrines  as  a  revolution,  or  extension,  in  education. 
The  Cartesian  philosophy, — instantly,  in  England  trans- 
formed into  the  Newtonian  philosophy,  on  the  publication 
of  Newton's  mighty  discoveries, — was  eagerly  received, 
from  its  very  first  appearance,  and  incorporated  with  the 
elements  of  a  liberal  education,  both  in  Newton's  own 
university,  and  elsewhere.  And  not  only  were  the  new 
theories  of  the  solar  system  rapidly  diffused,  by  means 
of  lectures,  books,  and  in  other  ways ;  but  the  principles 
by  which  such  theories  are  collected  from  observation, — 
the  principles  of  that  induction  on  which  this  great 
fabric  of  science  rests, — became  objects  of  attention, 
respect,  and  praise.  Bacon,  with  his  majestic  voice, — 
the  trumpeter  who  stirred  up  the  battle,  as  he  himself 
calls  himself, — had  already  prepared  men's  minds  for 
this  feeling  of  respect  and  admiration  for  inductive  dis- 
covery, even  while  the  movement  was  only  beginning : 
and  in  this  country  at  least,  many  persons,  Gilbert, 
Cowley,  and  others,  had  re-echoed  the  sentiment  which 
he  expressed.      He  had  declared  that  knowledge,  fai 


246  DR.  WHEWELL  ON   THE 

more  ample  and  complete  than  had  yet  been  obtained 
Dy  man,  was  to  be  gained  by  the  use  of  new  methods  of 
investigation  ;  and  the  succeeding  time,  having  produced 
noble  examples  of  such  knowledge,  had  made  men  see 
that  they  had  entered  upon  a  new  epoch  of  science. 
And  it  was  natural  and  desirable  that  in  this,  as  in  other 
cases,  the  possession  of  a  body  of  new  truths,  and  the 
admiration  of  the  method  by  which  these  had  been 
acquired,  should  operate  upon  the  culture  of  the  intel- 
lect, among  those  who  sought  the  best  means  of  such 
culture ;  should  introduce  new  elements  into  liberal 
education  ; — should  make  it  a  part  of  the  mental  dis- 
cipline of  the  best-taught  classes,  that  they  should  learn 
to  feel  the  force  and  see  the  beauty  of  indtictive  reason- 
ing; as  the  older  elements  of  a  liberal  education,  mathe- 
matics and  jurisprudence,  had  been  employed,  among 
other  uses,  to  make  men  feel  the  force,  and  see  the 
beauty,  of  deductive  reasoning. 

And  thus  we  are  naturally  led  to  ask.  Has  this  been 
done  ?  Has  education  in  its  most  advanced  form  been 
thus  extended  }  Is  there,  in  the  habitual  culture  of  the 
intellect,  in  the  best  system  of  education,  this  cultivation 
of  the  habit,  or  at  least  of  the  appreciation,  of  inductive 
teaching  in  science.^  How  is  such  culture  to  be  effected } 
How  are  we  to  judge  whether  it  has  been  affected  } 

These  are  very  large  questions,  and  yet  the  time 
admonishes  me,  if  nothing  else  did,  that  I  must  be  very 
brief  in  any  answers  that  I  may  give  to  them.  I  must 
content  myself  with  a  hint  or  two  bearing  upon  the  sub- 
ject. And  first,  of  the  mode  in  which  this  culture  of  the 
inductive  habit  of  mind,  or  at  least  appreciation  of  the 
method  and  its  results,  is  to  be  promoted ;  if  I  might 
presume   to   give  an   opinion,  I  should   say  that   one 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY   OF   EDUCATION.  247 

obvious  mode  of  effecting  this  discipline  of  the  mind  in 
induction  is,  the  exact  and  soHd  study  of  some  portion 
of  inductive  knowledge.  I  do  not  mean  the  mechanical 
sciences  alone,  Physical  Astronomy  and  the  like;  though 
these  undoubtedly  have  a  prerogative  value  as  the  in- 
struments of  such  a  culture ;  but  the  like  effect  will  be 
promoted  by  the  exact  and  solid  study  of  any  portion 
of  the  circle  of  natural  sciences ;  Botany,  Comparative 
Anatomy,  Geology,  Chemistry,  for  instance.  But  I  say, 
the  exact  and  solid  knowledge ;  not  a  mere  verbal  know- 
ledge, but  a  knowledge  which  is  real  in  its  character, 
though  it  may  be  elementary  and  limited  in  its  extent. 
The  knowledge  of  which  I  speak  must  be  a  knowledge 
of  things,  and  not  merely  of  names  of  things  ;  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  operations  and  productions  of  nature, 
as  they  appear  to  the  eye,  not  merely  an  acquaintance 
with  what  has  been  said  about  them ;  a  knowledge  of 
the  laws  of  nature,  seen  in  special  experiments  and 
observations,  before  they  are  conceived  in  general  terms ; 
a  knowledge  of  the  types  of  natural  forms,  gathered  from 
individual  cases  already  made  familiar.  By  such  study 
of  one  or  more  departments  of  inductive  knowledge,  the 
mind  may  escape  from  the  thraldom  and  illusion  which 
reigns  in  the  world  of  mere  words. 

But  there  is  another  study  which  I  may  venture  to 
mention,  of  a  more  general  and  literary  kind,  also  emi- 
nently fitted  to  promote  an  appreciation  of  the  nature 
and  value  of  inductive  treatment  of  nature.  I  mean,  the 
History  of  the  Natural  Sciences  ;  for  in  such  history  we 
see  how,  in  the  study  of  every  portion  of  the  universe, 
the  human  mind  has  ascended  from  particular  facts  to 
general  laws  ;  and  yet  in  every  different  class  of  pheno- 
mena, by  processes  very  differenty  at  first  sight  at  least 

17 


24.3  DR.  WHEWELL  ON  THE 

And  I  mention  this  study,  of  the  history  of  science,  and 
especially  recommend  it,  the  rather,  because  it  supplies, 
as  I  conceive,  a  remedy  for  some  of  the  evils  which, 
along  with  great  advantages,  may  result  from  another 
study  which  has  long  been,  and  at  present  is,  extensively 
employed  as  an  element  of  a  liberal  education — I  mean, 
the  study  of  Logic.  The  study  of  Logic  is  of  great  value, 
as  fixing  attention  upon  the  conditions  of  deductive  proof, 
and  giving  a  systematic  and  technical  view  of  the  forms 
which  such  proof  may  assume.  But  by  doing  this  for 
all  subjects  alike,  it  produces  the  impression  that  there 
is  a  close  likeness  in  the  process  of  investigation  of  truth 
in  different  subjects ; — closer  than  there  really  is.  The 
examples  of  reasoning  given  in  books  of  Logic  are  gene- 
rally so  trifling  as  to  seem  a  mockery  of  truth-seeking, 
and  so  monotonous  as  to  seem  idle  variations  of  the 
same  theme.  But  in  the  History  of  Science,  we  see  the 
infinite  variety  of  nature  ;  of  mental,  ho  less  than  bodily 
nature ;  of  the  intellectual  as  well  as  of  the  sensible 
world.  The  modes  of  generalization  of  particulars, — of 
ascent  from  the  most  actual  things  to  the  most  abstract 
ideas, — how  different  are  they  in  botany,  in  chemistry, 
in  geology,  in  physiology !  Yet  all  most  true  and  real ; 
all  most  certain  and  solid ;  all  of  them  genuine  and  in- 
disputable lines  of  union  and  connexion,  by  which  the 
mind  of  man  and  the  facts  of  the  universe  are  bound 
together ;  by  which  the  universe  becomes  a  sphere  with 
intellect  for  its  centre ;  by  which  intellect  becomes  in  no 
small  degree  able  to  bend  to  its  purposes  the  powers  of 
the  universe. 

The  history  of  science,  showing  us  how  this  takes 
place  in  various  forms, — ever  and  ever  new,  when  they 
ieem  to  have  been  exhausted, — may  do,  and  carefully 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY  OF   EDUCATION.  249 

studied,  must  do,  much  to  promote  that  due  appre- 
hension and  appreciation  of  inductive  discovery:  and 
inductive  discovery,  now  that  the  process  has  been 
going  on  with  immense  vigour  in  the  nations  of  Europe 
for  the  last  three  hundred  years,  ought,  we  venture  to 
say,  to  form  a  distinct  and  prominent  part  of  the  intel- 
lectual education  of  the  youth  of  those  nations.  And 
having  said  this,  I  have  given  you  the  ultimate  result  of 
the  reflections  which  have  occurred  to  me  on  this  subject 
of  intellectual  education,  on  which  I  have  ventured  to 
address  you.  And  here,  therefore,  I  might  conclude. 
But  if  it  did  not  weary  you,  I  should  wish  to  make  a 
remark  on  the  other  of  the  two  questions  which  I  asked 
a  little  while  ago.  I  then  asked,  How  is  such  a  culture 
to  be  effected  ?  and  also,  How  are  we  to  judge  whether 
it  has  been  effected  ? 

With  regard  to  the  latter  question,  the  remark  which 
I  have  to  make  is  briefly  this. — In  the  inductive  sciences, 
every  step  of  generalization  is  usually  marked  by  some 
%vord,  which,  adopted  to  mark  that  step,  acquires  thence- 
forth a  fixed  and  definite  meaning ;  and  is  always  to  be 
used  in  the  sense  so  given  it,  not  in  any  other  way  in 
which  other  resemblances  or  incidents  may  suggest. 
And  the  definition  of  technical  words  in  inductive  science, 
is  contained  in  the  history  of  the  science ;  is  given  by 
the  course  of  previous  research  and  discovery.  "  The 
history  of  science  is  our  dictionary ;  the  steps  of  scientific 
induction  are  our  definitions."  Now  this  being  so,  we 
may  remark,  that  when  we  hear  a  man,  in  the  course  of 
an  argument,  asking  for  Definitions,  as  something  by 
which  error  is  to  be  avoided  and  truth  learned,  such  a 
demand  is  evidence  that  his  intellectual  training  has 
been   deductive,    not   inductive — logical,   not  scientific 


250  DR.  WHEWELL  ON   THE 

In  geometry,  and  in  other  demonstrative  sciences,  De- 
finitions are  the  beginning  of  the  science — the  fountains 
of  truth.  But  it  is  not  so  in  the  inductive  sciences.  In 
such  sciences,  a  Definition  and  a  Proposition  commonly 
enter  side  by  side — the  definition  giving  exactness  to 
the  proposition  ;  the  proposition  giving  reahty  to  the 
definition. 

But  further :  as  technical  terms,  appropriate  to  a 
])recise  and  steady  sense,  mark  every  step  of  inductive 
ascent  in  science,  the  exact  and  correct  use  of  the  tech- 
nical terms  of  science  is  evidence  of  good  inductive 
culture  of  the  mind  ;  and  a  vague  and  improper  use  of 
such  terms,  is  evidence  of  the  absence  of  such  culture. 
When  we  hear  men  speak,  as  we  often  do,  of  impettis 
and  nwmetttum,  of  gravity  and  inertia,  of  centripetal  and 
centrifugal  force,  and  the  like,  using  the  terms  mostly  by 
guess,  and  assuming  oppositions  and  relations  among 
them  which  do  not  exist ;  as,  for  instance,  when  they 
oppose  the  centrifugal  and  centripetal  force,  as  if  they 
were  forces  in  the  same  sense, — we  cannot  help  saying 
that  such  persons,  however  ingenious  and  quick  they 
may  be  in  picking  a  possible  meaning  out  of  current 
words,  by  means  of  their  etymology,  or  any  other  casual 
light,  have  not  the  habit  of  gathering  the  meaning  of 
scientific  words  from  the  only  true  light,  the  light  of 
induction. 

And  this  remark  may  not  be  without  a  special  use,  if 
we  recollect  that  there  are  at  present  a  number  of 
scientific  words  current  among  us,  which  are  applied 
with  the  most  fantastical  and  wanton  vagueness  of 
meaning,  or  of  no  meaning.  At  all  periods  of  science, 
probably,  scientific  terms  are  liable  to  this  abuse,  after 
scientific  discoveries  have  brought  them  into  notoriety. 


SCIENTIFIC   HISTORY   OF   EDUCATION.  25 1 

and  before  the  diffusion  of  science  has  made  their  true 
meaning  to  be  generally  apprehended.  The  names, 
indeed,  of  attraction,  gravitation,  and  the  like,  have  pro- 
bably now  risen,  in  a  great  degree,  out  of  this  sphere  of 
confusion  and  obscurity,  in  which  any  word  may  mean 
anything.  But  there  are  words — belonging  to  sciences 
which  have  more  recently  reached  scientific  dignity — 
which  words  every  one  pursuing  fancies  which  are  utterly 
out  of  the  sphere  of  science,  seems  to  think  he  may  use 
just  as  he  pleases.  Magnetism  and  Electricity,  and  the 
terms  which  belong  to  these  sciences,  are  especially 
taken  possession  of  for  such  purposes,  and  applied  in 
cases  in  which  we  know  that  the  sciences  from  which 
the  names  are  ^^ conveyed"  have  not  the  smallest  appli- 
cation. Is  Animal  Magnetism  anything.?  Let  those 
answer  who  think  they  can :  but  zve  know  that  it  is  not 
Magnetism.  When  I  say  we,  I  mean  those  who  are  in 
the  habit  of  seeing  in  this  place  the  admirable  exhi- 
bitions  of  what  Magnetism  is,  with  which  you  have  long 
been  familiar.  And  assuredly,  on  the  same  ground,  I 
may  say  that  you  have  been  shown,  and  know,  what 
Electricity  is,  and  what  it  can  do,  and  what  it  cannot 
do,  and  what  is  not  Electricity.  And  having  had  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  this,  you,  at  least,  have  so  much 
of  the  culture  of  the  intellect  which  inductive  science 
supplies,  as  not  to  suppose  that  your  words  would  have 
any  meaning,  if  you  were  to  say  of  any  freak  of  fancy 
or  will,  shown  in  bodily  motion  or  muscular  action,  that 
it  is  a  kind  of  Electricity. 


ON  THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  THE  STUDY 
OF  ECONOMIC  SCIENCE. 

A  LECTURE  DELIVERED  AT  THE  ROYAL  INSTITUTION 
OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 

W.  B.  HODGSON,  IXJ>. 


"  Ignorance  does  not  simply  deprive  as  of  advantages  ;  it  leads  us  to 
%7ork  our  own  misery  ;  it  is  not  merely  a  vacuum,  void  of  knowledge,  l-ut 
tL  plenum  of  positive  errors,  continually  productive  of  unhappiness.  Tha 
remark  was  never  more  apposite  than  in  the  case  of  Political  Economy." — 
Samuel  Bailey's  Discourses,  &c.  p.  I2i.     1852. 

"If  a  man  begins  to  foi^et  that  he  is  a  social  being,  a  member  of  a  body, 
and  that  the  only  truths  which  can  avail  him  anything,  the  only  truths 
which  are  worthy  objects  of  his  philosophical  search,  are  those  which  are 
equally  true  for  every  man,  which  will  equally  avail  every  man,  which  \a- 
must  proclaim,  as  far  as  he  can,  to  every  man,  from  the  proudest  sage  to 
the  meanest  outcast,  he  enters,  I  believe,  into  a  lie,  and  helps  forward  the 
dissolution  of  that  society  of  which  he  is  a  member." — Rev.  C.  Kingsley's 
Alexandria  and  her  Schools.     L.  ii.  p.  66.     1S54. 

"A  man  will  never  be  just  10  others  who  is  not  just  to  himself,  and  the 
first  requisite  of  that  justice  is,  that  he  should  look  every  obligation,  every 
engagement,  every  duty  in  the  face.  This  applies  as  much  to  money  oa 
to  more  serious  aflairs,  oitd  as  much  to  nations  as  to  men." — Times^  June  b, 
1854. 


ON  THE 
STUDY    OF    ECONOMIC    SCIENCE. 

It  was  truly  said  in  this  room,  some  weeks  ago,  by 
one  whose  departure  from  London  we  must  all  regret 
— Professor  Edward  Forbes  —  that  "//  is  the  nature 
of  the  hummi  mind  to  desire  and  seek  a  law!*  The 
higher  desires  of  man  have  not  been  left,  any  more  than 
his  lower,  without  their  object  and  their  fulfilment ;  and 
just  as  the  bodily  appetite  desires  food,  while  the  earth 
yields  stores  of  nourishment, — as  the  imagination  craves 
for  beauty,  and  beauty  is  on  every  side, — so,  responding 
to  man's  desire  for  law,  does  all  Nature  bear  the  impress 
of  law.  Not  to  the  ignorant  or  careless  eye,  however, 
does  LAW  anywhere  reveal  itself  The  discovery  of  its 
traces  is  the  student's  rich  and  ever  fresh  reward.  To 
men  in  general,  the  outward  sense  reports  only  a  number 
of  detached  phenomena ;  their  relations  become  gradually 
apparent  to  him  only  whose  mental  vision  is  acute 
enough,  and  whose  gaze  is  steady  enough,  to  behold 
them.  Science,  therefore,  consists  not  in  the  accu- 
mulation of  heterogeneous  facts,  any  more  than  the 
random  up-piling  of  stones  is  architecture,  but  in  the 
detection  of  the  principles  which  co-relate  facts  even  the 
most  dissimilar  and  anomalous,  and  of  the  order  which 
binds  the  parts  into  a  whole.  SCIENCE  is,  in  brief,  the 
pursuit  of  LAW ;  and  the  history  of  science  is  the  record 


256  DR.   HODGSON 

of  the  steps  by  which  man  in  this  pursuit  rises  through 
classifications,  of  which  the  last  is  ever  more  compre- 
hensive than  its  predecessors,  from  the  complexity  of 
countless  individuals  to  the  simplicity  of  the  group, 
and  from  the  diversity  of  the  many,  at  least  towards  the 
oneness  of  the  universal. 

The  discoveries,  however,  which  it  needed  a  Newton 
or  a  Cuvier  to  make,  may  be  rendered  intelligible  in 
their  results,  if  not  always  in  their  processes,  to  ordinary 
understandings;  and  whether  our  knowledge  be  super- 
ficial or  profound,  the  belief  in  the  omnipresence  of  law, 
in  at  least  the  physical  world,  has  long  ago  taken  its 
place  in  the  convictions  of  the  least  instructed  man. 
Let  any  one,  then,  who  can  realize  mentally  the  dif- 
ference between  the  aspect  which  the  starry  heavens 
bear  to  the  quite  ignorant  beholder,  and  that  which 
those  same  heavens  present  to  the  man  most  slightly 
acquainted  with  the  discoveries  of  astronomy,  or  be- 
tween the  appearances  of  the  vegetable  world  before 
and  after  some  acquaintance  with  Vegetable  Physiology, 
but  who  has  never  thoughtfully  considered  the  phe- 
nomena of  industrial  life, — let  such  a  one  station  himself, 
say  on  London  Bridge,  at  high  tide,  and  in  the  busy 
hour  of  day ;  let  him  watch  the  ever-flowing  streams 
of  human  beings,  each  bound  on  his  several  errand, — 
the  seemingly  endless  succession  of  vehicles,  with  their 
freight,  animate  and  inanimate ;  let  him  look  down  the 
river,  and  observe  the  number  and  variety  of  shipping 
coming  and  departing  from  and  to  all  parts  of  the 
world,  remote  or  near ;  let  him  observe,  as  he  strolls 
onwards,  the  shops,  and  warehouses,  and  wharfs,  and 
arsenals,  and  docks,  with  their  overflowing  stores;  the 
almost  interminable  lines  of  streets  with  houses  of  every 


ON   THE  STUDY   OF   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.        257 

size  and  kind,  each  tenanted  by  its  respective  occupants ; 
the  railway  stations  from  which  and  to  which  go  and 
come,  hourly,  thousands  of  human  beings,  and  the  pro- 
duce of  the  industry  of  miUions  of  human  beings ;  the 
electric  telegraph,  transmitting  from  town  to  town — nay, 
from  land  to  land — the  outward  symbols  of  thought, 
with  almost  the  proverbial  speed  of  the  inward  thought 
itself;  let  him  consider,  that  within  the  range  of  a  few 
miles  of  ground  that  produces,  directly,  none  of  the 
necessaries  of  life,  are  gathered  together  more  than 
2,000,000  of  men,  women,  and  children,  at  the  rate,  in 
some  parts,  of  186,000  to  the  square  mile;  let  him 
ponder  how  it  is  that  all  these  people  are  daily  fed,  and 
clothed,  and  lodged, — how  it  is  that  all  these  things 
have  been  produced  and  are  maintained ;  let  him  further 
consider  that  this  stupendous  spectacle  is  but  a  sample 
of  what  is  going  on,  with  great  varieties,  in  so  many 
other  regions  of  the  world ;  that  people,  separated  by 
thousands  of  miles  of  land  and  sea,  who  never  saw  each 
other,  who,  it  may  be,  scarcely  know  of  each  other's 
existence,  are  busily  providing  for  each  other's  wants, 
and  each  procuring  his  own  sustenance  by  ministering 
to  others'  necessities  or  desires  ;  and  then  let  him,  with- 
out at  all  losing  sight  of  the  too  obvious  evil  mixed  up 
with  all  this,  seriously  ask  himself.  Is  this  vast  field  of 
contemplation  the  theatre  also  of  LAW,  which  binds  the 
several  parts  together ;  or  is  it  a  mere  giddy  and  for- 
tuitous dance  of  discordant  and  jostling  atoms, — in  a 
word,  a  huge  weltering  chaos,  waiting  the  fiat  of  some 
Monsieur  Cabet  or  Babceuf  to  reduce  it  to  order,  and 
convert  it  into  a  cosmos,  by  persuading  or  compelling 
the  several  atoms  to  adopt  some  cunningly  devised 
principle  of  so-called  "  organization   of  labour  ?  '*     To 


2S8  DR.   HODGSON 

this  question  Economic  Science  professes,  at  least,  to 
supply  the  answer ;  and  if  science  be  the  pursuit  of  law, 
and  deserve  the  title  in  proportion  to  its  success  in  that 
pursuit,  the  claims  of  Economic  Science  must  be  tested 
by  the  nature  of  the  reply  it  gives. 

It  may  occur  to  some  who  hear  me,  that  the  term  LAW 
is  not  applicable  in  the  same  sense  or  way  to  the  various 
classes  of  phenomena  which  I  have  casually  indicated. 
In  the  first, — the  region  of  astronomy, — LAW  suggests 
the  idea  of  some  mighty  force  which  irresistibly  compels 
motions  on  the  grandest  scale ;  in  the  second, — the 
vegetable  world, — it  suggests  rather  a  mere  principle  of 
arrangement,  according  to  which  certain  unresisting 
bodies  are  distributed ;  while  in  the  third, — the  Eco- 
nomic World  of  Man, — a  vast  difference  appears  between 
it  and  the  other  two,  inasmuch  as  we  have  here  a 
multitude  of  independent  intelligences  and  wills,  acting 
consciously  and  voluntarily  from  within,  in  every  variety 
of  direction,  and  often  in  seeming  opposition  to  each 
other.  This  difficulty  merits  a  consideration,  serious  if 
brief.  Between  the  first  and  second  the  difference  is  not 
real,  but  only  apparent.  The  growth  of  a  plant  is  as 
wonderful, — as  grand  an  exercise  of  power,  as  the  revo- 
lution of  a  planet ;  and  gravitation,  as  we  call  it,  no 
more  than  growth,  is  in  itself  a  power;  both  are  alike 
expressions  and  results  of  that  WILL  which  is  in  the 
universe  the  only  real  power — the  only  true  cause.  Our 
very  word  order  has  a  double  sense — arrangement  and 
command;  so  natural  is  it  for  us  to  identify  the  one  with 
the  other,  and  to  believe  that  arrangement  or  system 
exists  only  by  command  or  LAW.  And,  in  truth, 
throughout  all  things,  however  diverse  the  special  phe- 
nomena, whether  it  be  the  sweep  of  a  comet,  or  the 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  259 

budding  of  a  flower,  we  can  recognise  still  only  a 
principle  or  method  of  arrangement  as  the  result  of 
will;  and  it  is  because  these  are  so  closely  and 
invariably  connected  in  our  minds,  that  we  are  so  apt 
to  use  the  word  law  sometimes  for  the  one,  and  some- 
times for  the  other,  personifying  Law,  just  as  we  do 
Providence  in  ordinary  speech. 

The  real  difficulty,  however,  lies  in  the  third  case,  that 
is,  the  subject  immediately  before  us.  Having  seen  the 
prima  facie  and  analogical  improbability  of  the  notion 
that  the  economic  world  is  lawless,  the  question  arises 
— In  what  way  does  LAW  operate  amid  so  many  seem- 
ingly independent  and  conflicting  individualities  ?  I 
have  no  desire,  and  there  is  happily  no  need,  for  long  or 
subtle  disquisition.  I  would  merely  submit  a  considera- 
tion in  itself  quite  simple,  but  fraught,  if  I  mistake  not, 
with  the  most  important  practical  results.  In  the  purely 
inorganic  world,  law  operates  irresistibly,  and  command 
and  obedience  are  strictly  coincident,  co-extensive,  and 
identical.  In  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  for 
eicample,  there  is  no  eccentricity  in  the  popular  sense  of 
the  term ;  even  the  orbit  of  a  comet,  between  whose 
successive  re-appearances  many  decades  of  years  and 
whole  generations  of  men  pass  away,  is  absolutely 
known — eclipses  with  the  longest  intervals  are  certainly 
foretold.  The  same  fact  holds  in  the  organized  but 
inanimate  world,  as  in  the  world  both  inanimate  and 
unorganized.  As  we  ascend  in  the  scale,  and  enter  on 
the  animate  creation,  we  find  a  like  fixity  and  uniformity 
provided  for  to  a  very  large  extent  by  that  most  marvel- 
lous faculty — Instinct,  which  guides  almost  infallibly  the 
lower  orders  of  animals,  which  maintains  an  almost 
precise  sameness  among  the  most  distant  generations 


26o  DR.   HODGSON 

and  conducts  all  surely  and  unconsciously  to  the  end  of 
their  being.  But  MAN  is  a  being  vastly  more  complex 
in  his  nature ;  he,  too,  has  instincts,  but  these  form  a 
much  smaller  proportion  of  his  whole  faculty ;  with  all 
that  the  lower  orders  of  being  have,  he  has  much  more 
besides — moral  faculties,  reason,  and  will,  both  the  latter 
differing  vastly  in  degree,  if  not  in  kind,  from  those  of 
any  other  creature.  The  part  which  he  has  to  play  in 
creation  is  proportionally  complex  ;  and  here  it  is  that 
perplexity,  and  discord,  and  confusion  begin  to  appear, 
or  at  least  chiefly  manifest  themselves.  It  is  this  surface 
confusion  which  hides  from  us  the  central  and  pervading 
Law,  and  makes  it  difficult  to  trace  its  operation.  The 
laws  or  conditions,  however,  which  determine  human 
well-being,  are  really  as  fixed  and  absolute  as  are  the 
laws  of  planetary  motion ;  but  man,  though  so  consti- 
tuted as  to  desire  and  seek  his  well-being,  has  not  an 
infallible  perception  of  that  in  which  it  consist  ■,,  or  of 
the  means  by  which  this  end  is  to  be  attained.  We  find, 
throughout,  this  distinction  between  man  and  the  lower 
animals.  Thus  other  animals  are  gifted  by  nature  with 
the  clothing  suitable  to  their  condition,  and  it  even 
varies  in  colour  and  thickness  according  to  the  seasons. 
Man  alone  has  with  effort  to  construct  what  clothing  he 
requires ;  so,  more  or  less,  is  it  with  food  ;  so  is  it  with 
shelter.  Is  this  an  inferiority  on  the  part  of  man } 
Surely  not;  for  it  is  by  this  very  discipline  that  his 
higher  faculties  are  called  into  play,  and  enlarged,  and 
strengthened.  What  appears  a  penalty  is,  in  reality  a 
blessing.  Nature's  very  provision  for  the  comfort  of 
bird  or  beast  seems,  at  the  same  time,  the  sentence  of 
incapacity  for  improvement.  Man,  however  (I  speak 
now  of  the  individual),  is  progressive,  being  capable  of 


ON   THE  STUDY   OF   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  26 1 

improvement ;  and  he  is  stimulated  to  improvement 
because  his  wants  are  not  supplied  for  him,  but  he  is 
compelled  to  supply  them  for  himself,  and  his  desires 
ever  grow  with  the  means  of  their  gratification.  The 
whole  universe  is  thus,  in  truth,  a  great  educational 
organization — a  great  school, — for  the  calling  out  and 
the  direction,  of  what  powers  are  in  man  latent.  But 
his  progress  is  not  a  smooth  advance  from  good  to 
better ;  his  way  lies  through  evils  of  many  kinds — evils 
attendant  inseparably  on  defective  knowledge,  and  ill- 
regulated  desires.  Law,  which  in  the  physical  universe 
operates  \iYi\-formly,  here  operates,  so  to  speak,  BI- 
formly:  the  law  wears,  Janus-like,  two  faces;  but  it  is 
one  law  nevertheless.  It  assumes,  however,  a  twofold 
sanction,  reward  for  obedience,  punishment  for  disobedi- 
ence, each  being  but  the  complement  and  corollary  of 
the  other.  Thus  the  pallid  face  and  irritable  nerves  of 
the  sedentary  student,  the  ruddy  cheek  and  iron  muscles 
of  the  ploughman, — the  trembling  hand  and  blood-shot 
eyes  of  the  drunkard,  the  steady  pulse  and  clear  open 
countenance  of  the  temperate  man, — are  the  results  not 
of  two  antagonistic  laws,  but  of  one  law,  vindicating  its 
majestic  universality  in  the  one  case  not  less  than  in  the 
other.  So  is  it  with  the  stagnant  and  pestilential  swamp 
as  contrasted  with  the  cultivated  plain ;  the  ruined 
village  with  the  thriving  town ;  the  land  of  inhabitants 
few  but  poor,  with  the  land  of  inhabitants  many  and 
rich.  It  is  this  difference,  accordingly,  which  in  the 
human  sphere  translates  Law  into  Duty,  and  the  MUST 
of  the  Physical  World  into  the  OUGHT  of  the  Moral. 
Wordsworth,  the  most  philosophical  of  poets,  has  not 
failed  to  detect  their  kinship,  however,  when,  in  hia 
noble  "  Ode  to  Duty,"  he  says : — 


262  DR.   HODGSON 

*•  Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds, 
And  fragrance  in  thy  footing  treads  : 
Thou  dost  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong, 
And  the  most  ancient  heavens  through  Thee  are  fresh  and  tlrong  * 

Good,  then,  being  the  great  end  of  all  the  established 
conditions  of  our  life,  evil  is,  and  must  ever  be,  the 
result  of  their  violation.  As  Paley  has  said  that  no 
nerve  has  ever  been  discovered  whose  function  lies  in 
the  giving  of  pain,  so,  in  all  things,  pain  or  evil  follows 
the  breach,  not  the  observance,  of  a  law.  But  this  very 
pain  or  evil  is  not  in  its  end  vindictive,  or  simply  puni- 
tive ;  its  aim  is  reformation  for  the  future,  not  merely 
punishment  for  the  past.  The  child  burns  its  finger  in 
the  candle  flame,  cuts  its  hand  with  a  knife,  makes  a 
false  step  and  falls,  and  profits  all  its  life  through  by  the 
lessons  it  has  gained.  And  so  the  exhaustion  of  mind 
or  body  from  over-exertion,  the  headache  from  intem- 
perance, are  Nature's  solemn  warnings,  tending  power- 
fully to  prevent  future  transgression.  Man's  successes 
and  his  failures  are  both,  in  different  ways,  instructive; 
both  help  him  in  his  career. 

But  Man  is  progressive  not  only  as  an  individual,  but 
as  a  race.  Here,  still  more,  is  his  superiority  to  all  other 
animals  apparent  He  is,  in  some  measure,  the  heir  of 
the  discoveries,  the  inventions,  the  thoughts,  and  the 
labours,  of  all  foregoing  time ;  and  each  man  has,  in 
some  measure,  for  his  helper,  the  results  of  the  accumu- 
lated knowledge  of  the  world.  But  the  transmission  of 
experience  and  knowledge  from  generation  to  generation 
is  the  fundamental  condition  of  progress  throughout  the 
successive  ages  of  the  life  of  mankind.  To  a  large 
extent,  of  course,  we  cannot  but  profit  from  the  labour 
of  our  predecessors ;  all  those  products,  and  instrumentii 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE  263 

and  agencies,  which  we  style  "civilization,"  our  roads, 
our  railways,  our  canals,  our  courts  of  law,  our  houses 
of  legislature,  and  a  thousand  other  embodiments  of  the 
combined  and  successive  efforts  of  many  generations, 
are  our  inheritance  by  birth ;  but  the  very  guidance  and 
employment  of  these  for  their  improvement,  or  even  for 
their  maintenance,  require  ever  increased  knowledge  and 
intelligence.  The  higher  the  civilization  that  a  commu- 
nity has  attained,  the  more,  not  the  less,  necessary  is  it 
that  its  members,  as  one  race  succeeds  another,  should 
be  enlightened  and  informed.  No  inheritance  of  indus- 
trial progress  can  dispense  with  individual  intelligence 
and  judgment,  any  more  than  the  accumulation  of  books 
can  save  from  the  need  of  learning  to  read  and  write. 
But  thousands  of  human  beings,  born  ignorant,  are  left 
to  repeat  unguided  the  same  experiments,  and  to  incur 
the  same  failures  and  penalties  as  their  parents, — as 
their  ancestors.  Where  these  stumbled,  or  slipped,  and 
fell,  they  too  stumble,  or  slip,  and  fall,  rising  again 
perhaps,  but  not  uninjured  by  the  fall.  Nature  teaches, 
it  is  true,  by  penalty  as  well  as  by  reward  ;  but  it  is 
surely  wise,  as  far  as  may  be,  to  anticipate  in  each  case 
this  rough  teaching,  to  aid  it  by  rational  explanation, 
and  to  confine  it  within  safe  bounds.  The  world,  doubt- 
less, advances,  in  spite  of  all.  That  industrial  progress  is 
what  it  is,  proves  that  the  amount  of  observance  of  law 
is,  on  the  whole,  largely  in  excess  of  its  violation ;  were 
it  otherwise,  society  would  retrograde,  and  humanity 
would  perish.  This  predominance  of  good  results  from 
the  very  constitution  of  human  nature  and  of  the  world, 
by  which  the  individual,  working  even  unconsciously 
and  for  his  own  ends,  and  learning  even  by  failure, 
achieves  a  good  wider  than  that  he  contemplates,  and 
18 


2t)4.  DR.    HODGSON 

by  which  progress,  in  spite  of  delay  and  fluctuation,  is 
maintained  alike  in  the  individual  and  the  race.  But 
how  shall  the  evil  which  yet  mars  and  deforms  our 
civilization  be  abated,  if  not  removed,  while  progress  is 
made  more  rapid,  and  sure,  and  equable?  Both  depend 
alike  on  increased  observance  of  law ;  and  it  is  by 
diffusing  knowledge  of  its  existence  and  operation 
that  observance  of  law  is  rendered  more  general  and 
less  precarious.  If,  then,  we  would  convert  not  only 
disobedience  into  obedience,  but  obedience  blind,  un- 
conscious, and  precarious,  into  obedience  conscious, 
intelligent,  and  habitual,  we  must  teach  all  to  under- 
stand the  nature  of  the  laws  on  which  the  universal 
wellbeing  depends,  and  train  all  in  those  habits  which 
facilitate  and  secure  the  observance  of  those  laws. 

Assuming,  then,  that  in  the  industrial  or  economii 
sphere  the  laws  of  human  wellbeing  are  as  fixed  as  i» 
any  other,  and  that  what  measure  of  wellbeing  we  any- 
where behold  is  the  result  of  obedience,  conscious  or  un- 
conscious, to  those  laws,  we  ought  next  to  inquire  what 
those  LAWS  are.  As  a  preliminary,  let  us  take  a  hasty 
survey  of  the  steps  by  which  any  people  ascends  from 
barbarism  to  civilization,  from  destitution  to  comfort, 
from  poverty  to  wealth.  From  the  review  alike  of  good 
and  of  evil,  we  shall  be  able  to  extract  the  principles 
which  run  throughout,  and  which  both  good  and  evil 
concur  to  attest.  In  barbarous  countries  we  find  men 
scattered  in  small  numbers  over  a  wide  extent  of  terri- 
tor)',  living  by  hunting  or  fishing,  or  both  combined  ; 
every  man  supplies  his  own  wants  directly ;  he  makes 
his  own  bow  and  arrows  ;  he  kills  a  buffalo  for  himself; 
with  hides  stripped  and  dressed  by  himself,  he  con- 
structs  his  own  robe  or  tent ;  he  lives  from  hand  tc 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  265 

mouth,  feasting  voraciously  to-day,  then  starving  till 
another  supply  of  food  can  be  obtained  ;  ever  on  the 
verge  of  famine,  and  eking  out  a  precarious  subsistence 
by  robbery  and  murder,  which  he  calls  war.  All  but  the 
titrong  perish  in  early  years,  ancj  the  average  duration 
of  life  is  low.  If  we  contemplate  the  pastoral  life  instead 
of  that  of  hunting  and  fishing,  still  we  find  that  large 
tracts  of  country  are  needed  for  the  maintenance  of  few 
people.  If  the  earth  be  at  all  cultivated,  it  is  with  the 
rudest  implements,  and  the  produce  is  proportionally 
scanty.  So  long  as  each  man  is  entirely  occupied  in 
providing  for  his  own  wants,  progress  is  impossible.  So 
soon,  however,  as  by  the  gradual  and  slow  introduction 
of  better  implements,  and  the  acquirement  of  greater 
skill,  agriculture  becomes  more  productive,  and  the 
labour  of  one  man  becomes  sufficient  for  the  support  of 
more  than  one,  of  some,  of  many  ;  the  first  condition  of 
progress  is  realized,  and  the  labour  of  some  or  many  is 
now  set  free  for  other  occupations.  Food  and  clothing, 
fuel  and  shelter,  are  the  first  necessaries  of  life.  But 
instead  of  every  man  preparing  all  these  for  himself 
directly,  instead  of  every  man  making  for  himself  all 
that  he  requires,  gradually  one  man  begins  to  construct 
one  article,  or  set  of  articles  only,  while  another  devotes 
liimself  to  another,  with  a  consequent  great  increase  of 
productiveness  in  each  case,  from  increased  skill  and 
economy  of  time ;  in  other  words,  the  division  of  labour 
is  begun.  But  so  soon  as  the  industry  of  the  community 
is  thus  divided,  and  that  of  each  thus  restricted,  as  each 
.still  requires  all  the  articles  which  before  he  constructed 
for  himself,  he  can  obtain  them  only  from  those  who 
employ  themselves  in  their  production  ;  and  this  he  can 
do  only  by  giving  some  of  his  own  product  as  an  equi- 


266  DR.   HODGSON 

valent,  in  other  words,  by  exchange.  This  transaction 
gives  meaning  to  the  term  valiUy  which  denotes  simply 
the  amount  of  commodities  that  can  be  procured  in  ex- 
change for  any  other  commodity.  Division  of  labour 
and  exchange  are  thus  simultaneous  in  their  origin. 
From  the  introduction  of  exchange,  industrial  progress 
gains  a  fresh  life.  Industry  having  been  thus  rendered 
more  productive  than  before,  subsistence  is  now  provided 
for  a  larger  number  of  persons  than  before.  The  reward 
of  industry  increasing  with  its  productiveness,  ingenuity 
is  stimulated  to  the  invention  of  improved  methods,  and 
of  improved  instruments  called  tools,  or,  as  they  become 
more  complicated  and  powerful,  machiues,  though  a 
machine  is  in  principle  only  a  tool  ;  and  the  very  argu- 
ment which  is  good,  if  good  at  all,  against  a  steam- 
plough,  is  good  against  the  common  plough,  or  a  hoc,  or 
a  spade,  or  a  stake  hardened  in  the  fire. 

Population  having  meantime  increased,  the  land  avail- 
able for  production  becomes  more  and  more  fully  appro- 
priated ;  and  as  one  portion  is  more  fertile,  or  more 
advantageously  situated  than  another,  it  becomes  more 
advantageous  to  pay  a  portion  of  the  produce  for  the 
right  to  cultivate  a  more  productive  soil,  than  to  culti- 
vate an  inferior  soil  even  for  nothing;  e.g.  to  pay  ten 
measures  of  grain  for  a  soil  which  produces  fifty  mea- 
sures, than  nothing  for  a  soil  which  produces,  say  thirty 
or  thirty-five  ;  and  hence  arises  what  we  call  rent.  But, 
meantime  also,  the  productiveness  of  industry  having 
become  ever  greater  in  proportion  to  the  consumption 
of  its  produce,  the  process  of  accumulation  goes  on,  and 
the  unconsumed  results  of  previous  labour,  which,  how- 
ever various  their  kinds,  we  term  WEALTH,  swell  to 
larger  proportions.     But  this  wealth  is  not  equally  po.s- 


ON   THE   STUDY  OF   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  267 

sessed  by  all ;  one  man,  from  superior  skill,  or  intelli- 
gence, or  economy,  or  other  causes,  coming  to  possess 
more  than  others,  while  some,  it  may  be,  possess  none 
at  all.  Mere  labour,  however,  without  the  results  of 
foregone  labour,  embodied  in  some  form,  can  accomplish 
little  ;  while  the  results  of  foregone  labour,  in  whatever 
form  embodied,  need  fresh  labour  in  order  to  become 
still  more  productive.  Thus,  e.g.  a  spade  is  a  result  of 
past  labour ;  without  it  the  labourer  could  accomplish 
little ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  spade,  without  the 
labourer  to  wield  it,  would  be  unproductive.  Now,  the 
spade  here  represents  that  portion  of  wealth  which  is 
devoted  to  further  production,  and  which  is  called 
CAPITAL.  Capital  and  labour  are  thus  indispensable  to 
each  other.  They  may  exist  in  different  hands,  or  in 
the  same ;  but  they  must  co-exist,  and  co-operate. 
Thus — if  we  suppose  them  to  be  in  different  hands — the 
owner  of  the  spade,  whom  we  may  call  the  capitalist, 
may  undertake  to  give  the  labourer  a  fixed  compensation 
for  his  labour  aided  by  the  spade  (an  amount  which  will 
more  or  less  exceed,  and  can  in  no  case  fall  below,  what 
the  labourer  without  the  spade  can  earn),  reserving  for 
himself  any  surplus  that  may  arise  after  that  labour  is 
paid.  In  this  case,  the  labourer's  reward  is  called 
WAGES ;  the  capitalist's  reward  is  called  PROFIT.  Or 
the  capitalist  may  lend  the  spade  to  the  labourer  for  a 
fixed  return  (which  will  be  somewhat  less  than,  and 
which  cannot  exceed,  the  difference  in  the  labourer's 
productiveness,  caused  by  the  spade),  the  labourer  claim- 
ing as  his  own  all  that  he  can  realize  over  and  above 
what  he  pays.  In  this  case,  the  labourer's  return,  what- 
ever "it  may  be  called,  is  partly  wages  and  partly  profit, 
while  the  capitalist's  return  is  termed  interest,  or  much 


268  DR.  HODGSON 

better,  usance,  an  obsolete  English  word,  for  it  is  leally 
what  is  paid  for  the  use  of  capital  in  any  form.  If  the 
capital  and  labour  be  in  the  same  hands,  e.g.  if  the 
labourer  own  the  spade  he  uses,  the  joint  return  ever 
consists  of  the  two  items  here  discriminated. 

As  industry  extends  and  wealth  increases,  it  is  early 
found  necessary  to  provide  for  the  security  of  property; 
for  the  suppression  of  violence  and  fraud ;  and  for  the 
settlement  of  disputes  that  will  here  and  there  arise, 
even  without  evil  intention  on  either  side.  Hence  all 
the  machinery  of  courts  of  justice,  and  of  government, 
from  its  highest  to  its  lowest  functionary.  As  these, 
though  not  in  themselves  directly  producers,  are  indis- 
pensable to  production,  and  exist  for  the  welfare  of  all, 
they  must  be  maintained  at  the  expense  of  all  ;  hence 
comes  TAXATION  of  various  kinds,  which  it  is  the  busi- 
ness of  the  legislature  to  impose  justly,  and  in  the  way 
least  likely  to  fetter  industry,  and  prevent  increase  of 
wealth. 

So  far  as  we  have  hitherto  seen,  exchanges  have  as 
yet  been  effected  by  direct  giving  and  taking  of  com- 
modity for  commodity,  or,  as  it  is  termed,  barter ;  but 
great  and  serious  difficulties  attend  this  system,  diffi- 
culties ever  more  deeply  felt  as  exchanges  multiply,  and 
become  more  various ;  the  baker  may  not  want  the  shoe- 
maker's shoes,  if  the  latter  want  his  bread;  but  the  latter 
may  not  want  as  much  bread  as  equals  the  value  of  a 
pair  of  shoes  ;  and  payment  by  a  half  or  a  third  of  a 
pair  of  shoes  is  impossible.  A  medium  of  exchange, 
accordingly,  is  introduced  ;  usually  the  precious  metals, 
as  they  are  called,  the  very  word  implying  one  of  their 
fitnesses  for  the  task — viz.,  that  in  a  small  bulk  they 
contain  great  value.     The  non-liability  to  decay ;  capa- 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  ECONOMIC  SCIENCE.         269 

bility  of  division  without  loss ;  comparative  exemption 
from  fluctuations  of  supply;  and  facility  of  recognition, 
are  among-  their  other  claims.  Exchange,  thus  facilitated 
by  the  adoption  of  a  medium  which  all  are  ready  to 
receive,  and  by  which  most  minute  proportions  of  value 
may  be  easily  represented,  proceeds  with  vastly  increased 
rapidity ;  and  value  being  thus  measured  habitually  in 
money,  we  have  the  new  element  of  PRICE.  Though 
money  in  itself  is  but  a  very  small  portion  of  the  capital, 
and  still  less  of  the  total  wealth,  of  a  nation,  it  so 
habitually  represents  every  kind  of  capital  and  wealth, 
that  it  conveniently  becomes  a  synonyme  for  both,  not, 
however,  without  some  risk  of  mental  confusion  and 
error  as  the  result. 

Exchanges  becoming  thus  continually  more  frequent 
and  complicated,  it  is  found  convenient  and  advan- 
tageous, on  the  principle  of  the  division  of  labour,  that 
a  class  of  men  should  devote  themselves  to  conduct  the 
business  of  exchange  solely,  the  work  of  production 
being  left  to  others.  By  the  introduction  of  mercJiants, 
who  do  not  themselves  produce,  a  greater  amount  of 
production  is  attained,  on  the  whole,  than  would  be 
possible  if  all  both  produced  and  exchanged  without 
their  intervention. 

But,  for  facility  and  frequency  of  exchange,  even  at 
home,  rapidity,  and  ease,  and  safety  of  communication, 
are  indispensable  ;  good  roads,  swift  conveyances,  canals, 
and  ultimately  railways  arise,  with  their  adjuncts  of 
carriers  and  couriers,  and  post-establishments,  and  tele- 
graphs of  ever  greater  ingenuity  and  efficiency. 

Exchange,  which  was  at  first  confined  within  the 
limits  of  one  country,  soon  extends  to  other  countries, 
with  an  immense  advantage  to  all,  for  all  are  thus  made 


270  DR.  HODGSON 

partakers  in  the  productions  of  each,  which  are  more 
and  more  diverse  according  to  their  diversity  of  climate. 
Foreign  commerce,  with  all  that  it  involves  of  ships,  and 
docks,  and  warehouses,  is  the  most  powerful  stimulus  to 
home  industry.  But  exchange,  whether  at  home  or 
abroad,  is,  in  all  cases,  when  analyzed,  simply  each 
man's  giving  something  that  he  wants  less,  for  some- 
thing else  that  he  wants  more. 

As  geographical  knowledge  and  means  of  transit  are 
increased,  numbers  pass  from  one  country  to  another; 
from  countries  densely  to  those  less  densely  peopled ; 
from  countries  where  land  is  all  appropriated,  to  those 
where  it  is  still  unclaimed  ;  from  countries  where  capital 
and  labour  are  comparatively  unproductive,  to  those 
where  both  are  more  amply  rewarded  ;  new  fields  being 
thus  perpetually  opened  up  for  human  industry,  and 
increased  enjoyment  provided  by  fresh  and  ever  aug- 
mented interchange,  both  for  those  who  go  and  for  those 
who  stay. 

But  long  ere  this,  as  yet  the  highest,  stage  of  progress 
has  been  reached,  the  precious  metals  themselves  have 
been  found  incompetent  to  discharge  the  full  duty  of 
exchange ;  and  paper  money,  or  duly  vouched  promises 
to  pay  money,  is  introduced,  with  an  ever  more  compli- 
cated machinery  of  bank-notes  and  bills  of  exchange, 
for  the  management  of  which  class  of  transactions  a  still 
further  division  of  labour  is  introduced  by  means  of 
bankers,  bill-brokers,  and  the  other  agents  by  whom 
what  we  call  comprehensively  CREDIT  is  carried  on. 

But  life  and  property  are  subject  to  contingencies 
which  involve  serious  loss,  and  which  it  is  impossible 
always  to  prevent  It  is  discovered  that  the  evil  results 
to  individuals,  which  would  be  ruinous  to  one,  may,  by 


ON   THE  STUDY  OF   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  27 1 

combination,  be  distributed  over  many.  Hence  insur- 
ances against  fire,  against  death,  against  disaster  at  sea, 
against  hail-storms  and  diseases  among  cattle,  against 
railway  accidents,  and  even  against  fraud  on  the  part  of 
clerks  or  other  assistants,  all  of  which  are  based  on  cal- 
culation of  averages,  this  again  being  based  on  the  con« 
viction  that  a  certain  regularity  prevails  among  events 
even  the  most  anomalous  and  irregular. 

And  thus,  step  by  step,  by  a  strictly  natural  course, 
does  the  work  of  industrial  progress  go  on,  till  we  wit- 
ness its  gigantic  results  in  our  own  time  and  our  own 
land — results  of  which  the  great  Crystal  Palace  (the 
opening  of  which  was  not  inaptly  coincident  with  the 
day  fixed  for  this  exposition  of  the  principles  whose 
triumph  it  exemplifies)  may  be  justly  regarded  as  the 
crowning  and  most  various  illustration — raised,  as  it  has 
been,  by  voluntary  combination,  on  strictly  economic 
grounds,  and  embracing  within  itself,  in  one  vast  space, 
examples  of  the  productions  of  the  labour,  the  ingenuity, 
the  fancy,  the  skill,  the  science  of  all  ages  and  of  every 
land. 

In  this  inevitably  brief  and  incomplete  sketch  of  the 
industrial  progress  of  the  world,  not  only  has  much  been 
omitted,  but  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the  steps  do  not 
always  follow  each  other  in  precisely  the  same  order, 
and  that  much  that  is  here  recorded,  perforce,  succes- 
sively, takes  place  simultaneously.  It  is  not  possible 
here  or  now  to  extract  from  even  this  most  hasty  sketch 
the  merely  theoretic  principles  which  it  involves.  This  is 
the  business  of  a  long  course  of  lectures,  and  it  is  not, 
besides,  my  purpose  to  expound  Economic  Science  it- 
self, any  further  than  may  be  indispensable  to  show  its 
importance  as  a  branch  of  general  instruction.     Let   us 


272 


DR.   HODGSON 


rather  look  at  some  of  the  great  practical  lessons  that 
may  be  deduced  from  it  for  the  guidance  of  individual 
conduct. 

Everything,  then,  that  we  or  others  possess,  is  more  or 
less  the  result  of  human,  that  is,  of  individual,  industry. 
It  is  observable  that  not  where  Nature  itself  is  most 
prolific  is  human  labour  the  most  productive  ;  sc  true  is 
it  that  necessity  is  the  mother  of  invention  and  of  in- 
dustry as  well.  Truly  has  Rousseau  remarked,  "  In  the 
south,  men  consume  little  "  (he  might  have  said  produce 
iittle)  "  on  a  grateful  soil ;  in  the  north,  men  consume 
much,"  (and  of  course  produce  much)  "  on  a  soil  un- 
grateful." *  Where  man  has  most  done  for  him,  he  often 
does  least  for  himself;  and  though  his  labours  must  be 
seconded  by  the  productiveness  of  Nature,  the  latter  is 
really  more  dependent  on  the  former  than  the  former  on 
the  latter.  Now  this  law  holds  true  of  the  future  as 
well  as  of  the  present  or  the  past.  Every  human  being 
must  subsist  on  the  produce  of  his  own  industry,  or  on 
that  of  some  one  else.  Industry,  then,  is  the  first  duty 
of  him  who  would  be  honourably  independent. 

But  it  is  not  by  present  labour,  any  more  than  by 
future,  that  any  man  is  really  sustained.  While  the  crop 
is  growing,  for  example,  the  labourer  is  fed  by  the  grain 
of  former  harvests.  Now,  if  the  produce  of  labour  were 
consumed  as  fast  as  it  is  produced,  not  only  would  pro- 
gress be  impossible,  but  life  itself  would  be  endangered, 
and  would  ere  long  cease.  Hence  the  duty  of  what 
is  called,  in  its  narrower  sense,  economy,  or  the  frugal 
and  prudent  consumption  of  what  has  been  produced. 
Disasters,  too,  will  arise,  which  no  human  wisdom  can 
^cvent,  but  against  whose  consequences  it  may  provide, 

*  Emilc     Liv.  L 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF   ECONOMIC  SCIENCE.  273 

The  very  progress  of  industry  involves  displacement  of 
labour,  though  it  is  not  true  that  labour  is  so  super-' 
sededy  as  the  phrase  is.  The  invention  of  printing  threw 
amanuenses  out  cf  their  old  employment,  though  it  soon 
employed  a  thousand  men  instead  of  one.  During  all 
such  transitions,  it  is  only  by  previous  savings  that  those 
thus  affected  can  be  maintained  till  they  can  adapt 
themselves  to  the  change.  Again,  the  early  years  of 
every  human  being  are  incapable  of  industrial  effort,  and 
the  child  must  be  maintained  by  the  previous  labour  of 
others.  Upon  whom  this  duty  fairly  falls,  whether  on 
some  abstraction  that  we  call  the  State,  or  society,  or  on 
the  parents  of  the  child  to  whom  his  being  is  due,  is  a 
question  which  needs  less  to  be  asked  than  merely  to  be 
suggested  here.  Again,  the  years  of  labour  are  limited  ; 
the  evening  of  that  night  approaches  in  which  no  man 
can  work,  and  here  is  another  call  on  the  proceeds  of 
past  industry.  The  very  old,  as  well  as  the  very  young, 
must  be  supported  alike  by  foregone  labour  ;  in  the  case 
of  the  young,  it  must  be  by  the  labour  of  others  ;  in  the 
case  of  the  old,  it  must  be  either  by  their  own  previous 
labour,  or  by  that  of  their  children  now  grown  up,  or  by 
that  of  society  at  large — which  way  is  best  is  surely  not 
doubtful.  During  the  years  of  active  life  itself,  sickness 
will  sometimes  invade,  throwing  men  often  for  long 
periods  on  the  resources  of  the  past.  Hence  the  neces- 
sity of  forethought,  as  regards  equally  the  future  of 
others  whom  affection  and  duty  alike  commend  to  our 
care,  and  our  own,  when  the  days  of  decay  and  weak- 
ness shall  arrive.  Now,  forethought  involves  judgment, 
and  diligence,  and  self-denial.  i.  As  to  judgment. 
Earnings  may  be  saved,  but  if  injudiciously  invested, 
they   may  be  lost.     To  take  a  simple  case, — hoarded 


274  r>R.   HODGSON 

potatoes  are  a  more  precarious  economy  than  hoarded 
grain ;  and  so  throughour,  where  savings  are  invested 
through  banks,  or  building  societies,  or  railway  shares, 
or  in  any  other  way.  The  division  of  labour  itself  calls 
for  ever  fresh  exercise  of  judgment  So  long  as  each 
man  produces  all  that  he  wants  for  himself,  he  kno.vs 
precisely  what  he  wants,  and  how  much  ,  but  so  soon  as 
labour  is  divided,  each  man  produces  not  what  he  wants 
himself,  but  what  others  want,  or  are  supposed  to  want. 
If,  then,  any  one  produce  by  mistake  articles  which 
others  do  not  want,  or  of  a  quality,  or  to  an  extent  at 
variance  with  the  demand,  he  suffers  serious  loss,  it  may 
be  ruin.  2.  As  to  diligence  Without  this,  labour  is 
little  different  from  idleness.  But  mere  labour,  however 
diligent,  can  accomplish  little  unless  guided  by  intelli- 
gence, for  which,  as  the  demands  of  society  increase, 
there  is  an  ever  louder  call.  Knowledge,  then,  is  indis- 
pensable to  the  attainment  of  any  beyond  the  lowest 
results  of  industry.  The  more  we  know  of  the  nature 
of  that  on  which,  and  by  which,  and  in  which,  and  for 
which,  we  work,  the  more  likely,  nay  certain,  is  our  work 
to  turn  to  good  account.  This  knowledge,  when  embo- 
died in  practice  and  confirmed  by  it,  becomes  skill.  The 
very  tools  and  machines  which  some  fancy  supersede 
human  labour  and  skill,  are  the  results  of  both,  and  they 
render  the  former  infinitely  more  productive,  and  call  for 
ever  more  of  the  latter  for  their  improvement,  if  not  for 
their  actual  guidance.  3.  As  regards  self-denial.  One 
of  its  most  important  forms  is  temperance,  without  which 
labour,  especially  of  the  higher  kinds,  is  precarious ;  it 
may  be,  impossible.  As  society  advances,  the  relations 
of  man  to  his  fellows  become  more  and  more  numerous 
and  complex.     Credit,  as  it  is  well  called,  hold.i  a  larger 


ON   THE   STUDY  OF  ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.         275 

and  larger  place,  and  reliance  on  each  other's  faith  be- 
comes more  and  more  important.  Honesty,  accordingly, 
whether  in  its  lower  forms,  such  as  pimciuality,  or  in  its 
higher,  to  which  we  give  the  name  integrity,  is  thus  an 
indispensable  condition  of  human  progress.  Were  the 
exceptions  to  this  condition  to  become  much  more 
frequent,  the  bonds  of  human  society  would  be  propor- 
tionally loosened,  and  civilization  would  go  backward. 
In  scarcely  a  subordinate  degree  are  civility,  courtesy, 
mutual  forbearance,  and  willingness  to  oblige,  necessary 
to  oil  the  wheels  of  the  social  machine,  which,  without 
these,  would  move  but  slowly  and  creakingly  along. 
These  things  we  all  need  in  our  own  case ;  and  to  be 
received,  they  must  be  given. 

It  is  only  in  so  far  as  all  these  qualities  of  diligence, 
and  economy,  and  skill,  and  forethought,  and  intelli- 
gence, and  temperance,  and  integrity,  and  courtesy,  have 
been  manifested,  that  wealth  has  been  created,  and  that 
society  in  any  age  or  country  has  advanced.  It  is  just  in 
so  far  as  these  have  been  neglected  that  poverty,  and 
misery,  and  evil,  of  every  kind,  abound.  Such  are  some 
of  the  chief  practical  lessons  of  Economic  Science  when 
rightly  studied. 

And  will  any  one  ask,  "  Are  these  mere  truisms  the 
boasted  results  of  economic  teaching  ? "  In  reply,  much 
may  be  said.  What  is  a  truism  to  one  mind,  say  to  all 
here,  may  be  really  unknown  to  thousands  beyond  these 
walls,  In  such  subjects,  again,  the  profoundest  truth  is 
ever  the  simplest.  It  is  its  very  simplicity  that  blinds 
'js  to  its  value  and  comprehensiveness.  Further,  we  are 
so  easily  familiarized  with  the  mere  names  of  duties, 
and  so  accustomed  to  assent  with  the  lips  to  their 
obligation,  that  we  neglect  to  consider  either  their  basis 


276  DR.   HODGSON 

or  their  practical  working.  We  go  on  daily  assenting 
to  truths  we  daily  violate  ;  it  is  not  uncommon  to  lecture 
on  ventilation  in  rooms  whose  atmosphere  is  stifling  ;  to 
eulogize  economy  in  the  midst  of  reckless  expenditure ; 
and  health  is  sometimes  injured  by  very  diligence  in 
the  study  of  its  laws.  What  men  all  want,  is  not  merely 
the  discovery  and  promulgation  of  new  truth,  however 
useful,  but  the  freshening  up  of  old  truths  long  ago 
admitted.  The  coins  which  we  carry  about  with  us, 
and  which  pass  continually  from  hand  to  hand,  have 
had  the  sharpness  of  their  edges  worn  ofi,  their  legend 
all  but  effaced.  We  need  to  have  them  cast  anew  into 
the  mint  of  thought,  and  re-stamped  with  their  original 
"  image  and  superscription."  Rote-teaching  is  pernicious 
in  morals  not  less  than  in  merely  intellectual  matters 
The  explanation  of  a  law,  its  demonstration,  should  ever 
go  hand  in  hand  with  its  inculcation.  For  the  sake  of 
those  who  may  say,  or  at  least  think,  "  All  this  we  knew 
long  ago,"  let  me  use  an  illustration  from  the  quite 
parallel  case  of  Physiology.  In  my  younger  days  I 
was  accustomed  to  hear  much  vague  talk  about  air  and 
exercise  ;  on  all  hands  I  heard  that  nothing  was  so  good 
as  exercise  and  fresh  air.  Well,  so  long  as  the  restless 
activity  of  boyhood  lasted,  there  was  less  need  for  in- 
struction on  this  head  ;  boys  take  fresh  air  and  exercise 
in  blind  obedience  to  a  blessed  law  of  their  nature. 
But  when  youth  came  on,  and  intellect  became  more 
mature,  and  books  began  to  push  cricket  from  its 
throne,  all  the  rumour  about  air  and  exercise  was  quite 
inoperative  to  prevent  long  days  and  late  nights  of 
sedentary  position,  of  confinement  in  close  rooms,  of 
hard  work  of  the  brain,  while  the  circulation  of  the 
blood  was  impeded,  the  lungs   laboured,   the   muscles 


ON   THE   STUDY  OF  ECONOMIC  SCIENCE.         277 

.'ost  their  energy,  and  the  skin  its  freedom  of  transpira- 
tion and  its  vigour  to  resist  agencies  from  without. 
When,  like  most  of  you,  I  listened  in  delight  to  the 
beautiful  expositions  of  my  immediate  predecessor, 
perhaps  I  was  not  alone  in  thinking  that,  had  we  all 
been  taught  in  early  life  the  economy  of  the  lungs, 
and  heart,  and  blood-vessels,  and  brain, — had  we  been 
shown  that  the  blood  which  nourishes  the  body  must 
be  purified  by  frequent  contact  with  the  outer  air ;  that 
for  this  purpose  it  passes  frequently  through  the  lungs, 
receiving  from  the  air  fresh  life,  while  its  impurities  are 
thrown  off;  that  in  the  process  of  breathing,  the  air  is 
rapidly  deteriorated  and  rendered  unfit  to  sustain  life, 
constant  renovation  being  thus  required ;  that  by  mus- 
cular compression  consequent  on  exercise,  the  circula- 
tion is  quickened,  as  well  as  the  breathing,  so  that  the 
blood  is  thus  more  rapidly  purified,  the  effete  particles 
of  matter  are  more  quickly  removed,  and  our  bodies 
in  truth  more  frequently  and  healthfully  renewed, — we 
should  many  of  us  have  been  spared  much  suffering 
and  much  loss  of  power  arising  necessarily  from  viola- 
tion of  the  vital  laws.  And  so  with  Economic  Science. 
It  is  of  no  avail  to  repeat  by  rote  phrases  about  industry, 
and  temperance,  and  frugality,  &c.  The  results  of  the 
observance  and  of  the  violation  of  those  duties,  as  ex- 
emplified in  the  actual  working  of  social  life,  must  be 
clear] 37  shown,  and  so  enforced  that  the  knowledge  shall 
be  wrought  into  the  very  tissue  and  substance  of  the 
mind,  never  to  perish  while  life  lasts,  so  that  all  things 
shall  be  brought  to  the  test  of  the  principles  thus  in- 
corporated with  the  intellect  itself  Further,  in  the  case 
of  both  sciences  alike,  mere  teaching,  or  addressing  of 
the  intellect,  even  if  that  be  convinced,  is  not  all.  ot 


278  DR.   HODGSON 

enough  Training  must  accompany  teaching;  the  for- 
mation of  habits  must  go  on  with  the  clearing  of  the 
intellectual  vision.  I  speak  not  of  schools  alone,  or  of 
homes  alone ;  in  both  must  the  embryo  man  be  ac- 
customed, as  well  as  told,  to  do  what  is  right  He  who 
has  once  learned  by  habit  the  delight  and  the  advantage 
of  daily  ablution  of  the  whole  body,  or  of  daily  exercise 
in  all  weathers,  in  the  open  air,  will  not  easily  abandon 
or  interrupt  either  of  these  habits.  And  so  with  in- 
dustry and  the  rest.  Every  fresh  act  of  obedience  is  no 
longer,  as  it  were,  the  effort  of  a  distinct  volition,  but  an 
almost  automatic  repetition  of  an  act  first  commanded 
by  reason.  This  conversion  of  the  voluntary  into  the 
spontaneous  is  the  true  guarantee  for  perseverance  in 
any  line  of  conduct,  the  excellence  of  which  has  been 
already  recognised  by  the  understanding. 

The  analogy  between  the  Physiological  and  the 
Economic  Sciences,  both  in  their  nature  and  in  their 
present  position,  seems  to  me  to  hold  throughout  Thus 
ignorance  does  not  in  cither  confer  any  exemption  from 
the  evils  attending  the  breach  of  any  law,  however  it 
may  be  admitted  in  extenuation  at  the  bar  of  human 
justice.  The  child  who  takes  arsenic  for  sugar,  dies  as 
surely  as  the  wilful  suicide.  The  youth  launched  on 
this  busy  world  without  any  of  the  knowledge  here 
indicated,  finds  Greek  iambics,  and  even  conic  sections, 
of  no  guidance  in  its  industrial  relations,  and  he  suffers 
and  fails  accordingly.  What  is  the  inference  ?  That 
ignorance  should  be  removed,  and  evil  prevented,  by 
early  teaching,  rather  than  left  to  the  bitter  regimen  of 
experience.  Coleridge  has  finely  compared  experience 
to  the  stern  lights  of  a  vessel,  which  illuminate  only  the 
track  over  which  it  has  passed.     It  \»  for  us  rather  10 


ON   THE   STUDY  OF   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  279 

fix  the  light  of  knowledge  on  the  prow,  to  illumine  the 
course  which  the  ship  has  yet  to  take.  It  would  surely 
be  a  great  gain,  were  all  offences  against  economic  law 
reduced  to  the  category  of  wilful  disobedience,  in  spite 
of  knowledge ;  for  such,  I  firmly  believe,  are,  especially 
at  the  outset,  vastly  the  minority. 

Again :  Health,  much  as  it  depends  on  individual 
observance  of  its  laws,  is  greatly  dependent  on  their 
observance  by  others  also.  The  profligate  parent  trans- 
mits a  feeble  and  sickly  organization  to  his  child ;  just 
as  opposite  conduct  tends  to  the  opposite  result.  The 
pestilence  which  foulness  in  one  part  of  a  city  has  bred, 
extends  to  other  parts ;  and  the  consequences  of  the 
offence  spread  far  beyond  the  original  offender.  So, 
economically,  does  each  man  suffer  for  others'  trans- 
gressions besides  his  own.  The  idleness,  and  wasteful- 
ness, and  intemperance  of  parents  entail  hunger,  and 
raggedness,  and  every  form  of  misery,  on  the  unhappy 
children.  The  industrious,  and  provident,  and  honest 
members  of  the  community  are  stinted  in  their  means 
for  the  support  of  the  idle,  and  improvident,  and  dis- 
honest, and  for  their  own  protection  against  the  depreda- 
tions of  those  who  seek  to  live  by  others'  labour  rather 
than  their  own.  No  law  of  our  existence  is  more  sure 
than  this.  It  is  idle  to  cavil  or  complain.  Let  us  rather 
see  how  the  recognition  of  this  law  should  affect  us. 
What  is  the  practical  inference  .-*  It  is  that  the  interests 
f>f  humanity  are  one ;  that  throughout  mankind  there  is, 
in  French  phrase,  a  solidarity,  which  renders  each  re- 
sponsible, in  some  measure,  for  the  rest.  The  policy  of 
selfish  isolation  is,  therefore,  vain,  as  well  as  sinful.  We 
suffer  from  our  neglect  of  the  well-being  of  our  fellow- 
men.     The  gaol    fever,  which  the  gross  negligence    of 

19^         " 


28o  DR.   HODGSON 

prison  authorities  produced  in  former  days,  slew  the 
juryman  in  the  box,  and  even  the  judge  upon  the  bendu 
And  it  is  not  in  purse  alone,  or  even  chiefly,  that  \vc 
suffer  from  the  existence  of  the  destitute,  or  the  depraved. 
The  great  mountain  of  human  evil  throws  its  dark,  cold 
shadow  on  every  one  of  us ;  in  such  an  atmosphere  our 
own  moral  nature  droops  and  pines ;  and  just  propor- 
tioned to  the  mental  elasticity  which  attends  every 
successful  effort  to  spread  good  aroand  us,  is  the 
numbing  and  hardening  pressure  of  that  great  mass  of 
vice  and  misery  which  we  feel  ourselves  impotent  to 
relieve. 

One  more  analogy  I  would  briefly  note.  We  know 
how  common  quack  medicines  are.  Why  is  this? 
Because,  through  ignorance  of  physiological  laws,  people 
are  silly  enough  to  believe  that  any  nostrum  can  exist 
potent  to  repair,  as  by  a  magic  spell  or  incantation,  the 
evil  results  of  their  own  neglect  of  health  and  its  con- 
ditions. To  such  people,  talk  about  air  and  exercise, 
and  washing,  and  regular  diet,  and  early  hours,  and 
temperance,  and  alternation  of  labour  and  rest,  is  very 
uninteresting  and  commonplace.  To  a  similar  class  of 
persons,  discourse  on  diligence  and  economy,  and  fore- 
thought and  integrity,  is  very  dull.  "  What  is  the  use 
of  all  your  chemistry,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  if  you  cannot 
take  the  stain  out  of  my  silk  gown  ? "  And  by  tests  not 
less  narrow  and  erroneous  are  the  teachings  of  science, 
whether  economical  or  physiological,  often  tried.  But  a 
change  is  coming  over  the  public  estimate  of  the  latter, 
at  least  in  this  respect  Prevention  is  being  ever  more 
thought  of  than  cure  ;  or,  in  technical  phrase,  the/r^///v- 
lartic  claims,  and  now  receives,  more  attention  than  the 
tliernpcutic  portion  of  the  physician's  art.     Pure  water, 


ON   THE   STUDY   01'~   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  28 1 

Rnd  fresh  air  and  light  are  now,  almost  for  the  first  time, 
really  recognised  as  the  fundamental  and  indispensable 
conditions  of  health ;  and  baths,  and  drains,  and  venti- 
lators, and  wash-houses,  are  fast  encroaching  on  the 
domain  of  the  blister  and  the  lancet,  the  pill  and  the 
black  draught.  Now,  what  systems  of  the  treatment 
of  disease  are  to  Sanitary  Physiology,  Poor-laws  and 
Charitable  Institutions  and  Criminal  Legislation  are  to 
Economic  Science.  It  aims  at  preventing  the  evils 
which  those  seek  to  deal  with  as  they  arise.  The 
attempt  may  never  quite  succeed ;  but  its  success  will 
be  exactly  proportioned  to  the  vigour  and  unanimity 
with  which  it  is  made.  It  seeks  to  treat  the  source  of 
the  disease,  rather  than  the  mere  symptoms.  It  is  only 
as  the  former  is  removed  that  the  latter  will  disappear. 
By  all  means  let  no  palliative  be  neglected  in  the  mean- 
time, but  let  no  cure  be  expected  therefrom.  Efforts  to 
perfect  systems  of  poor-laws,  or  criminal  laws,  however 
excellent  or  useful,  must  be  abortive,  because  the  very 
existence  of  the  evils'which  these  address  is  abnormal ; 
and  it  is  for  the  removal  of  these  wens  and  blotches  on 
the  social  system  that  we  must  strive,  not  for  their  mere 
abatement  by  topical  applications,  or  the  rendering  of 
them  symmetrical  and  trim.  Wisdom  and  Benevolence 
here  meet,  and  are  at  one. 

Yet  persons  are  not  wanting  who  meet  our  desire  that 
Economic  Science  should  be  taught  to  all,  and  especially 
to  the  young,  by  the  cry  that  "  it  tends  to  make  men 
selfish  "  In  reply,  I  will  not  content  myself  with  saying, 
in  the  words  of  Shakspere,  "  Self-love  is  not  so  vile  a 
sin  as  self-neglecting."  I  go  much  further,  and  assert 
that  this  teaching,  if  properly  conducted,  has  precisely 
the  opposite  tendency.     Its  great  purpose  is,  to  show 


282  DR.  HODGSON 

how  the  community  is  enriched  by  the  industry  of  the 
individual,  and  how  the  value  of  individual  industry  is 
measured  by  its  result  in  enriching  the  community.  It 
wholly  disowns  and  condemns  every  mode  of  enriching 
the  individual  at  the  general  expense,  or  even  without 
the  general  advantage.  Thus,  the  merchant  who  brings 
a  commodity,  say  tea,  from  a  country  where  it  is  cheap 
to  one  where  it  is  dear,  and  gains  a  profit  by  the  trans- 
action, fulfils  the  conditions  of  Economic  Science.  He 
serves  at  once  the  community  in  which  he  lives  by 
bringing  an  article  from  a  place  where  it  is  less,  to  a 
place  where  it  is  more,  wanted  ;  and  the  community 
with  which  he  trades  by  giving  them  in  exchange  for 
the  article  they  sell  something  that  they  value  more. 
But  the  man  who  enriches  himself  at  the  gaming-table, 
or  by  other  means  more  or  less  resembling  the  picking 
of  pockets,  does  injury,  not  service,  to  the  community. 
He  is  wholly  out  of  the  pale  of  Economic  Science ; 
he  may  be  a  chevalier  d'industrie,  in  the  French  sense, 
but  Economic  Science  disowns  his  industry,  and  con- 
demns him  as  a  wasteful  consumer  of  what  others 
have  produced.  It  teaches  every  man  to  look  on 
himself  as  a  portion  of  society,  and  widens,  not  narrows, 
his  views  of  his  own  calling. 

And  here  I  cannot  but  express  my  deep  regret  that 
one  to  whom  we  all  owe,  and  to  whom  we  all  pay,  so 
much  gratitude,  and  affection,  and  admiration,  for  all 
he  has  written  and  done  in  the  cause  of  good — I  mean 
Mr.  Charles  Dickens — should  have  lent  his  great  genius 
and  name  to  the  discrediting  of  the  subject  whose  claims 
I  now  advocate.  Much  as  I  am  grieved,  however,  I  am 
not  much  surprised,  for  men  of  purely  literary  culture, 
v/ith  keen  and  kindly  sympathies  which  range  them  on 


ON   THE   STUDY  OF   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  283 

f^hat  seems  the  side  of  the  poor  and  weak,  against  the 
rich  and  strong,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  with  refined 
tastes,  which  are  shocked  by  the  insolence  of  success 
and  the  ostentation  incident  to  newly-acquired  wealth, 
are  ever  most  apt  to  fall  into  the  mistaken  estimate  of 
this  subject  which  marks  most  that  has  yet  appeared  of 
his  new  tale,  Hard  Times.  Of  wilful  misrepresentation 
we  know  him  to  be  incapable ;  not  the  less  is  the  mis- 
representation to  be  deplored.  We  have  heard  of  a 
young  lady  who  compromised  between  her  desire  to 
have  a  portrait  of  her  lover,  and  her  fear  lest  her  parents 
should  discover  her  attachment,  by  having  the  portrait 
painted  very  unlike.  What  love  did  in  the  case  of  this 
young  lady,  aversion  has  done  in  the  case  of  Mr. 
Dickens,  who  has  made  the  portrait  so  unlike,  that 
the  best  friends  of  the  original  cannot  detect  the  re- 
semblance. His  descriptions  are  just  as  like  to  real 
Economic  Science  as  "statistics"  aie  to  " stutterings," 
two  words  which  he  makes  one  of  his  characters  not 
very  naturally  confound.  He  who  misrepresents  what 
he  ridicules,  does,  in  truth,  not  ridicule  what  he  mis- 
represents. Of  the  lad  Bitzer,  he  says,  in  No.  218  of 
Household  Words : — 

"  Having  satisfied  himself,  on  his  father's  death,  that 
liis  mother  had  a  right  of  settlement  in  Coketown,  this 
c:xcellent  young  economist  had  asserted  that  right  for 
her  with  such  a  stedfast  adherence  to  the  principle  of 
the  case,  that  she  had  been  shut  up  in  the  workhouse 
ever  since.  It  must  be  admitted  that  he  allowed  her 
half  a  pound  of  tea  a  year,  which  was  weak  in  him : 
first,  because  all  gifts  have  an  inevitable  tendenv-y  to 
pauperize  the  recipient ;  and,  secondly,  because  his  onl> 
reasonable  transaction  in  that  commodity  would  have 
been  to  buy  it  for  as  little  as  he  could  possibly  give, 


284  DR.    HODGSON 

and  to  sell  it  for  as  much  as  he  could  possibly  get ;  it 
having  been  clearly  ascertained  by  philosophers  that  in 
this  is  comprised  the  whole  duty  of  man — not  a  part  of 
man's  duty,  but  the  whole." — P.  335. 

Here  Economic  Science,  which  so  strongly  enforces 
tarcntal  duty,  is  given  out  as  discouraging  its  moral, 
if  not  economic  correlative—:/?//^/  duty.  But  where  do 
economists  represent  this  maxim  as  the  whole  duty  of 
man  ?  Their  business  is  to  treat  of  man  in  his  industrial 
capacity  and  relations ;  they  do  not  presume  to  deal 
with  his  other  capacities  and  relations,  except  by  showing 
what  must  be  done  in  their  sphere  to  enable  any  duties 
whatever  to  be  discharged.  Thus  it  shows  simply  that 
without  the  exercise  of  qualities  that  need  not  be  here 
named  again,  man  cannot  support  those  dependent  on 
him,  or  even  himself.  If  it  do  not  establish  the  obliga- 
tion, it  shows  how  only  the  obligation  can  be  fulfilled. 

Let  me  once  more  recur  to  physiology  for  an  illus- 
tration. The  duty  of  preserving  one's  own  life  and 
health  will  not  be  gainsaid.  Physiology  enforces  this 
duty  by  showing  how  it  must  be  fulfilled.  But,  if  one's 
mother  were  to  fall  into  the  sea,  are  we  to  be  told  that 
physiology  forbids  the  son  to  leap  into  the  waves,  and 
even  peril  his  own  health  and  life  in  the  effort  to  save 
her  who  gave  him  birth  }  Physiology  does  not  command 
this,  it  is  true ;  this  is  not  its  .sphere ;  but  this,  at  least, 
it  does, — it  teaches  and  trains  to  the  fullest  development 
of  strength  and  activity,  that  so  they  may  be  equal  for 
every  exigency — even  one  so  terrible  as  this ;  and  so 
precisely  with  Economic  Science. 

Again,  we  are  told  it  discourages  marriage : — 

"'Look  at  me,  ma'am,'  says  Mr.  Bitzer.  'I  don't 
want  a  wife  and  family.     Why  should  they  ? ' 


ON  THE  STUDY  OF  ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  285 

*  Because  they  are  improvident,'  said  Mrs.  Sparsit. 

'  Yes,  ma'am,  that's  where  it  is.  If  they  were  more 
provident,  and  less  perverse,  ma'am,  what  would  they 
do  ?  They  would  say,  "  While  my  hat  covers  my 
family,"  or,  "  While  my  bonnet  covers  my  family,"  as 
the  case  might  be,  ma'am,  "  I  have  only  one  to  feed, 
and  that's  the  person  I  most  like  to  feed."  '" — P.  336. 

Does  this  mean  that  men  or  women  ought  to  rush 
blindly  into  the  position  of  parents,  without  thinking  or 
caring  whether  their  children  can  be  supported  by  their 
industry,  or  must  be  a  burden  on  that  of  society  at 
large  ?  If  not,  on  what  ground  is  prudent  hesitation, 
in  assuming  the  most  solemn  of  all  human  responsi- 
bilities, a  subject  for  ridicule  and  censure  ?  Is  the 
condition  of  the  people  to  be  improved  by  greater  or 
by  less  laxity  in  this  respect  .-• 

But  not  merely  are  we  told  that  this  teaching  (which, 
by  the  way,  scarcely  exists  in  any  but  a  very  few 
schools),  tends  to  selfishness,  and  the  merging  of  the 
community  in  the  individual ;  it  has,  it  seems,  also,  a 
quite  opposite  tendency  to  merge  the  individual  in  the 
community,  by  accustoming  the  mind  to  dwell  wholly 
on  averages.  Thus,  if  in  a  city  of  a  million  of  inhabi- 
tants, twenty-five  are  starved  to  death  annually  in  the 
streets,  or  if  of  100,000  persons  who  go  to  sea,  500  are 
drowned,  or  burned  to  death,  we  are  led  to  believe  that 
Economic  Science  disregards  these  miseries,  because 
they  are  exceptional,  and  because  the  average  is  so 
greatly  the  other  way !  Now,  though  in  comparison  of 
two  countries,  or  two  periods,  such  averages  are  indis- 
pensable, Economic  Science  practically  teaches  everj'- 
vvhere  to  analyze  the  collective  result  into  its  constituent 
elements, — in  a  word,  to  individualize.     It  teaches,  for 


286  DR.  HODGSON 

example,  that  every  brick,  and  stone,  and  beam  of  this 
building,  of  this  street,  of  this  city,  has  been  laid  by  some 
individual  pair  of  hands  ;  and  it  urges  every  man  to  work 
for  himself,  and  to  render  his  own  industry  ever  more 
productive,  surely  not  to  rest  in  idle  contemplation  of 
the  average  of  industry  throughout  the  land.  It  is  his 
duty  to  swell,  not  to  reduce  that  average.  So  with  pros- 
perity. I  am  quite  unable  to  see  what  tendency  the 
knowledge  of  that  average  can  have  to  discourage  the 
effort  to  increase  it.  Besides,  it  is  a  fundamental  error 
to  confound  mere  statistics  with  economic  science,  which 
deals  with  facts  only  to  establish  their  connections  by 
way  of  cause  and  effect,  and  to  interpret  them  by  law. 

But  were  it  otherwise,  with  what  justice  can  economic 
instruction  be  charged  with  destroying  imagination,  by 
the  utilitarian  teaching  of  "  stubborn  facts  }  "  Why  should 
either  exclude  the  other .''  I  can  see  no  incompatibility 
between  the  two.  By  all  means  let  us  have  poetry,  but 
first  let  us  have  our  djily  bread,  even  though  man  is  not 
fed  by  that  alone.  It  is  the  Poet  Rogers  who  says,  in  a 
note  to  his  poem  on  /ta/y,  "  To  judge  at  once  of  a  nation, 
we  have  only  to  throw  our  eyes  on  the  markets  and  the 
fields.  If  the  markets  are  well  supplied,  and  the  fields 
well  cultivated,  all  is  right.  If  otherwise,  we  may  sav, 
and  .say  truly,  these  people  are  barbarous  or  oppressed." 
Destitution  must  be  removed,  for  the  very  sake  of  the 
higher  culture.  If  we  would  have  the  tree  fling  its 
branches  widely  and  freely  into  the  upper  air.  its  roots 
must  be  fixed  deeply  and  firmly  in  the  earth.  But 
enough  of  this  subject,  on  which  I  have  entered  with 
pain,  and  only  from  a  strong  sense  of  duty.  The  public 
mind,  alas !  is  not  enlightened  enough  to  render  such 
•'riting  harmless. 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF  ECONOMIC   SCIENCE,  287 

Hitherto,  I  have  spoken  only  of  those  great  principles, 
and  the  duties  flowing  therefrom,  which  pervade  the 
whole  subject.  But  if  these  principles  are  the  most 
comprehensible,  there  are  very  many  others  which,  in 
the  practical  affairs  of  life,  it  is  most  important  thoroughly 
to  understand,  and  which  it  is  the  peculiar  business  of 
Economic  Science  to  expound.  It  is  an  error  to  suppose 
that  in  matters  touching  men's  "  business  and  bosoms," 
even  though  of  daily  and  hourly  recurrence,  instruction 
is  not  needed,  and  that  "common  sense"  is  a  sufficient 
guide.  Alas !  common  sense  is  widely  different  from 
proper  sense.  It  is  precisely  in  these  subjects  that  error 
most  extensively  prevails,  and  that  it  is  most  pernicious 
where  it  does  prevail.  In  matters  far  removed  from 
ordinary  life  and  experience,  pure  ignorance  is  possible, 
perhaps ;  and,  in  comparison,  little  mischievous.  But  in 
those  which  concern  us  all  and  at  all  times,  it  is  alike 
impossible  to  be  purely  ignorant  and  to  be  ignorant 
with  impunity.  If  the  mind  have  not  right  notions  de- 
veloped at  first,  it  will  certainly  have  wrong  ones.  Hence 
we  may  say  of  knowledge  what  Sheridan  Knowles  says 
of  virtue :  "  Plant  virtue  early !  Give  the  Jlower  the 
chance  you  suffer  to  the  weed  !  " 

The  minds  of  most  men  are  a  congeries  of  maxims, 
and  notions,  and  opinions,  and  rules,  and  theories  picked 
up  here  and  there,  now  and  then,  some  sound,  others 
unsound,  each  often  quite  inconsistent  with  the  rest,  but 
which  are  to  them  identified  with  the  whole  body  of 
truth,  and  which  are  the  standard  by  which  they  try  all 
things.  This  fact  explains  a  remark  in  a  recent  school 
report,  that  it  is  far  easier  to  make  this  science  intel- 
ligible to  children  than  to  their  parents.  No  doubt,  just 
as  it  is  easier  to  build  on  an  unoccupied  ground,  than 


288  DR.  HODGSON 

on  one  overspread  by  ruins.  And  so,  not  only  is  it  pos- 
sible to  teach  this  subject  to  the  young ;  but  it  is  to  the 
young  that  we  must  teach  it,  if  we  would  have  this 
teaching  most  effective  for  good.  For  further  evidence 
of  the  general  need  for  this  kind  of  instruction,  it  suffices 
to  look  around  us,  and  test  some  of  the  opinions  pre- 
valent lately  or  even  now.  And  here  there  is  much  of 
interest  that  might  be  said,  did  time  permit,  of  still 
prevailing  errors  regarding  strikes,  and  machinery,  and 
wages,  and  population,  and  protection,  and  taxation,  and 
expenditure,  and  competition,  and  much  more  besides. 
But»into  this  field  my  limits  forbid  even  me  to  enter. 

The  programme  of  this  lecture  speaks  of  the  impor- 
tance of  Economic  Science  to  all  classes.  It  would  be 
a  serious  error  to  suppose  that  its  advantage  is  confined 
wholly,  or  even  chiefly,  to  those  who  depend  on  daily 
labour  for  daily  bread.  Even  were  it  so,  in  the  midst  of 
frequent  and  rapid  changes  of  position,  the  rich  man 
becoming  poor,  as  well  as  the  poor  man  becoming  rich, 
this  kind  of  teaching  would  still  be  important  for  all 
classes.  But  the  capitalist  not  less,  it  may  be  said  even 
more,  than  the  labourer,  needs  instruction.  He  has  been 
styled  the  captain  of  industry ;  it  is  for  him  to  marshal, 
and  equip,  and  organize,  and  pay  its  forces,  and  to  guide 
their  march.  Any  mistake  on  his  part  must  be  widely 
injurious.  The  wise  employment  of  capital  is  a  most 
momentous  question ;  for  it  determines  the  direction  ot 
the  industry  of  millions,  and  affects  the  prosperity  of  all 
coming  time.  From  the  class  of  the  rich,  too,  arc  our 
legislators  chiefly  chosen.  To  them  this  kind  of  know- 
ledge is  important  just  in  proportion  as,  in  their  cxse, 
ignorance  or  error  is  most  pernicious.  Of  the  aristocracy 
of  our  day,  were  old  Burton  living  now,  he  would  scarcely 


ON   THE   STUDY   OF    ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  289 

say  what  he  said  of  those  of  his  own  time  :  "  They  are 
like  our  modern  PVenchmen,  that  had  rather  lose  a  pound 
of  blood  in  a  single  combat,  than  a  drop  of  sweat  in  an> 
honest  labour."  *  The  contagion  of  industry  has  spread 
to  them ;  and  idleness  is  less  than  ever  confounded 
with  nobility.  But  there  is  ample  room  for  further  pro- 
gress. If  wealth,  even  economically  considered,  involve 
increased  responsibility,  it  calls  the  more  loudly  for 
enlightenment  and  guidance. 

Again,  on  the  side  of  expenditure,  or  consumption, 
does  this  subject  especially  concern  the  rich.  As  supply 
ever  follows  demand,  it  is  by  this  that  production  is 
mainly  guided.  Shall  it  run  in  the  direction  of  sen- 
suality and  self-indulgence,  or  shall  it  flow  in  better  and 
more  useful  channels }  Memorable  are  the  words  of 
Lord  Byron  in  his  later  days  in  Greece : — 

"  The  mechanics  and  working  classes  who  can  main- 
tain their  families  are,  in  my  opinion,  the  happiest  body 
of  men.  Poverty  is  wretchedness ;  but  it  is  perhaps  to 
be  preferred  to  the  heartless,  unmeaning  dissipation  of 
the  higher  orders.  I  am  thankful  I  am  now  entirely 
clear  of  this,  and  my  resolution  to  remain  clear  of  it  for 
the  rest  of  my  life  is  immutable."  f 

At  this  most  suggestive  topic  I  can  barely  hint.  Much 
beside  I  am  forced  wholly  to  omit.  But  I  must  not  pass 
in  total  silence  the  claims  of  this  subject  on  the  atten- 
tion of  the  other  sex.  Fortunately,  little  needs  be  said 
ivithin  this  Institution,  of  whose  audience  at  lectures  on 
every  subject  ladies  form  perhaps  not  the  smallest,  and 
certainly  not  the  least  attentive  portion.  Surely  I  shall 
not  be  told  that  a  superficial  sketch,  such  as  mine,  is  foi 

*  Anatomy  of  Melancholy. 

■♦  Last  Days  of  Lord  Byron.     By  W.  Parry,  1825.     P.  ^jS. 


2q0  DR.  HODGSON 

them  unobjectionable,  but  that  the  serious  study  of  the 
science  is,  in  their  case,  to  be  discountenanced.  If  any 
kind  of  knowledge  can  do  harm  to  any  living  being,  it 
is  just  this  very  superficial  knowledge.  It  is  like  the 
twilight  which,  holding  of  day  on  the  one  hand,  and 
of  night  on  the  other,  mocks  the  senses  with  distorted 
appearances  which  thicker  darkness  would  hide,  but 
which  a  broader  daylight  would  dispel.  In  truth,  women 
have  a  special  interest  in  this  subject.  The  part  they 
play  in  industrial  pursuits  depends  much  on  conven- 
tional circumstances,  and  varies  in  various  countries ; 
but  in  all,  their  influence  in  the  region  of  expenditure 
is  vastly  great.  Who  shall  say  how  deeply  the  welfare 
of  families  and  of  society  at  large  is  involved  in  this } 
Again,  the  domain  of  charity  is  peculiarly  feminine ; 
and  the  benevolent  impulse,  ever  so  ready  to  spring  up, 
needs  to  be  guided  to  the  prevention,  rather  than  to  the 
relief,  of  what  is  too  often,  in  fitter  phrase,  the  indirect 
increase  of  misery.  Well  does  Thomas  Carlyle  (no 
friend  of  f/ie  dismal  science,  as  he  loves  to  call  it),  in  his 
quaint,  odd  way,  exclaim : — 

"  What  a  reflection  it  is,  that  we  cannot  bestow  on 
an  unworthy  man  any  particle  of  our  benevolence,  our 
patronage,  or  whatever  resource  is  ours, — without  with- 
drawing it,  and  all  that  will  grow  of  it,  from  one  worthy, 
to  whom  it  of  right  belongs !  We  cannot,  I  say  ;  im- 
possible :  it  is  the  eternal  law  of  things.  Incompetent 
Duncan  M'Pastehorn,  the  hapless  incompetent  mortal  to 
whom  I  give  the  cobbling  of  my  boots — and  cannot  find 
in  my  heart  to  refuse  it,  the  poor  drunken  wretch  having 
a  wife  and  ten  children ;  he  withdraws  the  job  from 
sober,  plainly  competent  and  meritorious  Mr.  Sparrow- 
bill,  generally  short  of  work,  too ;  discourages  Sparrow- 
bill  ;  teaches  him  that  he,  too,  may  as  well  drink  and 
loiter  and  bungle ;  that  this  is  not  a  scene  for  merit  and 


ON  THE  STUDY   OF   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  29 1 

demerit  at  all,  but  for  dupery,  and  whining  flattery,  and 
incompetent  cobbling  of  every  description — clearly  tend- 
ing to  the  ruin  of  poor  Sparrowbill !  What  harm  had 
Sparrowbill  done  me,  that  I  should  so  help  to  ruin  him  ? 
And  I  couldn't  save  the  insalvable  Mr.  Pastehorn :  I 
merely  yielded  him,  for  insufficient  work,  here  and  there 
a  half-crown,  which  he  oftenest  drank.  And  now  Spar- 
rowbill also  is  drinking  !  "  * 

Between  the  Lady  Bountiful  of  olden  times,  with  her 
periodical  distributions  of  coals  and  blankets,  and  simples 
and  cowslip  wine,  who  regarded  the  poor  as  her  pets, 
her  peculiar  luxury,  of  which,  did  they  cease  to  be 
mendicants,  she  would  be  cruelly  deprived, — and  the 
Mrs.  Jellyby,  whose  long-ranged  benevolence  shoots  in  a 
parabolic  curve  far  over  what  is  near,  to  descend  on 
what  is  remote,  hurrying  past  and  above  St.  Giles  or 
Whitechapel,  and  exploding  on  "  Borrioboola  Gha  ; " — 
between  these  widely  distinct  forms  of  what  is  called  in 
both  alike  Charity,  there  is  room  and  there  is  need  for 
women  of  judgment  as  clear  as  their  sympathy  is  earnest, 
\Vho  can  think  for  themselves,  as  well  as  feel  for  others ; 
who  shall  not  so  do  good  that  evil  may  come,  but  rather 
help  the  feeble  to  self-help,  and,  while  they  raise  the 
fallen,  look  mainly  to  "  forestalling "  others  "  ere  they 
come  to  fall." 

Up  to  this  point  I  have  spoken  solely  of  one  class  of 
advantages  attending  the  teaching  of  Economic  Science. 
But,  as  you  have  been  told  oftener  than  once  during  this 
course,  the  teaching  of  every  branch  of  knowledge  has, 
in  different  degrees,  two  sorts  of  advantage;  1st,  in  in- 
creasing man's  outward  resources ;  2nd,  as  a  means  of 
mental  discipline  and  inward  culture.     Of  the  second  of 

*  Model  Prisons,  p.  24 ;  Latter-Day  Pamphlets,  No.  2. 


291  DR.   HODGSON 

these  advantafjes  I  can  now  say  biit  little.  It  is  >vholl> 
unimportant  to  discuss  the  comparative  claims  of  diffe- 
rent subjects  in  this  respect.  The  difference  among  them 
is,  perhaps,  rather  of  kind  than  of  degree.  Mathematics 
discipline  one  set  of  powers,  metaphysics  another ;  or  in 
so  far  as  both  exercise  the  same  powers,  it  is  in  diffcrtnt 
ways.  I  claim  no  monopoly,  I  arrogate  no  superiority. 
I  simply  assert  the  educational  value  of  this  subject, 
without  prejudice  to  any  other,  and  all  the  more 
strongly,  because  it  has  been  and  is  so  sadly  neglected. 
Surely,  those  subjects  which  have  the  most  direct  and 
powerful  bearing  on  human  wellbeing,  and  which  treat 
of  some  of  the  most  important  relations  between  man 
and  man,  cannot  be  educationally  less  efficient  than 
other  studies  which  concern  man  less  closely  and 
directly.  And  I  leave  it  to  you  who  have  heard  even 
this  most  imperfect  and  hurried  exposition,  to  judge 
whether  it  can  fail  to  be  a  most  improving  mental  exer- 
cise to  sift  such  questions  as  the  relations  and  laws  of 
price,  of  capital  and  labour,  and  wages  and  profits,  and 
interest  and  rent,  and  to  trace  to  their  origin,  and  follow 
to  their  results,  the  fluctuations  affecting  all  these  in  our 
own  and  other  countries,  in  our  own  and  other  times. 
As  regards  the  other  sex,  on  this  ground,  at  least,  there 
can  be  no  doubt,  even  if  the  former  admitted  of  hesita- 
tion. To  women  and  to  men,  this  discipline  is  alike 
valuable :  for  women  it  is  even  more  necessary  ;  for  men 
are  inevitably  brought  more  into  contact  with  the  world 
and  its  affairs,  and  so  have  the  defects  of  their  early 
teaching  in  part  corrected.  It  is  well,  at  the  same  time 
that  the  understanding  is  exercised,  to  foster  an  interest 
in  human  welfare  by  an  enlarged  comprehension  of  its 
conditions.     We  hear  little  now  of  the  policy  or  pro- 


ON    THE   STUDY  OF   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE.  293 

priety  of  confining  women's  studies  to  superficial 
accomplishment.  It  were  an  error,  scarcely  less  serious, 
to  confine  them  to  inquiries  which  leave  the  individual 
isolated  from  the  race. 

Let  me  not,  in  conclusion,  be  supposed  to  ignore,  be- 
cause I  would  not  invade,  other,  and  (by  common  con- 
sent) the  most  sacred  grounds  on  which  the  moral 
aspects  of  this  subject  may  be  viewed.  Let  the  duties 
on  which  human  welfare,  even  industrially  considered,  is 
dependent,  be  enforced  elsewhere,  by  reasons  too  high 
for  discussion  here.  But  surely  this  ground,  at  least,  is 
in  common  to  religious  sects  of  every  variety  of  creed 
and  name.  Surely  it  is  a  solemn  and  cogent  considera- 
tion, that  the  very  fabric  of  our  social  being  is  held 
together  by  moral  laws,  and  that  the  man  who  violates 
them,  outlaws  himself,  as  it  were,  from  the  social 
domain,  and  rouses  into  armed  hostility  a  thousand 
agencies  which  might  and  would  otherwise  fight  upon 
his  side.  Not  only  the  profligate,  the  gambler,  the 
swindler,  and  the  drunkard,  but  the  idle,  the  reckless,  the 
unpunctual,  the  procrastinating,  find  here  a  bitter  but 
wholesome  condemnation  ;  and  the  very  science  which 
is  ignorantly  charged  with  fostering  selfishness,  teaches 
every  man  to  estimate  his  labours  by  their  tendency  to 
promote  the  general  good.  Nor  is  it  unimpressive,  as 
regards  even  what  Wordsworth  so  finely  calls 

"  The  unreasoning  progress  of  the  world, "  * 

to  watch  how  the  social  plan  is  carried  on  by  the  com- 
position of  so  many  volitional  forces,  each  bent   on  its 

"  In  the  unreasoning  progress  of  the  world 
A  wiser  spirit  is  at  work  for  us, 
A  betier  eye  than  ours." — Wordsworth. 


2^  DR.   HODGSON   ON   ECONOMIC   SCIENCE. 

own  aims.  "The  first  party  of  painted  savages,"  it 
has  been  well  said,  "  who  raised  a  few  huts  upon  the 
Thames,  did  not  dream  of  the  London  they  were 
creating,  or  know  that  in  lighting  the  fire  on  their  hearth 
they  were  kindling  one  of  the  g^eat  foci  of  Time."  .  .  . 
**  All  the  grand  agencies  which  the  progress  of  mankind 
evolves  are  formed  in  the  same  unconscious  way.  They 
are  the  aggregate  result  of  countless  single  wills,  each  of 
which,  thinking  merely  of  its  own  end,  and  perhaps  fully 
gaining  it,  is  at  the  same  time  enlisted  by  Providence  in 
the  secret  service  of  the  world."  *  If  law  be  indeed  the 
expression  of  an  intelligent  and  benevolent  will,  reve- 
rence and  obedience  towards  the  great  Lawgiver  must 
surely  be  fostered  (mark,  I  do  not  say  created)  by  the 
study  of  His  Jaws,  and  the  contrasted  results  of  their 
observance  and  their  violation.  And,  finally,  as  regards 
that  practical  religion  whose  testing  fruit  is  effort  for 
the  good  of  man, — a  study  which  shows  so  clearly  that 
human  welfare  is  involved  in  obedience  to  fixed  laws, 
and  that  obedience,  to  be  reliable,  must  be  based  on 
knowledge  of  their  existence  and  authority,  must  surely 
stimulate  the  extension  of  this  needful  knowledge 
among  all  classes  of  the  people.  In  this  light,  it  is 
abundantly  apparent  that,  sacred  as  is  the  duty  of 
acquiring  knowledge,  the  duty  of  diffusing  it  is  not  less 
sacred ;  and  that  knowledge  is  no  exception  to  the 
divine  precept — "  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to 
receive.** 

*  Jmms  MwtineauL 


ON  POLITICAL  EDUCATION. 

BY 

HERBERT  SPENCER. 

FROM 
ESSAYS  MORAL,  POLITICAL,  AND  ESTHETIC. 


20 


ON  POLITICAL  EDUCATION. 


And  now  let  us  look  at  the  assembly  of  representatives 
thus  chosen.  Already  we  have  noted  the  unfit  com- 
position of  this  assembly  as  respects  the  interests  of  its 
members ;  and  we  have  just  seen  what  the  represen- 
tative theory  itself  implies  as  to  their  intelligence.  Let 
us  now,  however,  consider  them  more  nearly  under  this 
last  head. 

And  first,  what  is  the  work  they  undertake  .■'  Observe, 
we  do  not  say,  the  work  which  they  ought  to  do ;  but 
the  work  which  ihoy  propose  to  do,  and  try  to  do.  This 
comprehends  the  regulation  of  nearly  all  actions  going 
on  throughout  society.  Besides  devising  measures  to 
prevent  the  aggression  of  citizens  on  each  other,  and 
to  secure  each  the  quiet  possession  of  his  own ;  and 
besides  assuming  the  further  function,  also  needful  in 
the  present  state  of  mankind,  of  defending  the  nation, 
as  a  whole,  against  invaders ;  they  unhesitatingly  take 
on  themselves  to  provide  for  countless  wants,  to  cure 
countless  ills,  to  oversee  countless  affairs.  Out  of  the 
many  beliefs  men  have  held  respecting  God,  Creation, 
the  Future,  etc.,  they  presume  to  decide  which  are  true ; 
and  endow  an  army  of  ^  priests  to  perpetually  repeat 
them  to  the  people.  The  distress  inevitably  resulting 
from  improvidence,  and  the  greater  or  less  pressure  of 


2q8  HERBERT  SPENCER 

population  on  produce,  they  undertake  to  remove :  they 
settle  the  minimum  which  each  rate-payer  shall  give  in 
charity;   and  how  the  proceeds  shall  be  administered. 
Judging  that  emigration  will  not  naturally  go  on   fast 
enough,  they  provide  means  for  carrying  off  some  of  the 
labouring   classes   to  the  colonies.    Certain   that  social 
necessities  will  not  cause  a  sufficiently  rapid  spread  of 
knowledge,  and  confident  that  they  know  what  know- 
ledge is  most  required,  they  use  public  money  for  the 
building  of  schools  and  paying  of  teachers  ;  they  print 
and  publish  State  school-books ;  they  employ  inspectors 
to  see  that  their  standard  of  education  is  conformed  to. 
Playing  the  part  of  doctor,  they  insist  that  every  one 
shall  use  their  specific,  and  escape  the  danger  of  small- 
pox by  submitting  to  an  attack  of  cow-pox.     Playing 
the  part  of  moralist,  they  decide  which  dramas  are  fit 
to  be  acted,  and  which  are  not.     Playing  the  part  of 
artist,  they  prompt  the  setting  up  of  drawing-schools; 
provide    masters    and    models;    and,    at    Marlborough 
House,  enact  what  shall  be  considered  good  taste,  and 
what  bad.     Through  their  lieutenants,  the  corporations 
of  towns,  they  furnish  appliances  for  the  washing  of 
people's  skins  and  clothes ;  they,  in  some  cases,  manu- 
facture gas,  and  put  down  water-pipes;  they  lay  out 
sewers,  and  cover  over  cess-pools ;  they  establish  public 
hbraries,  and    make   public   gardens.      Moreover,  they 
determine  how  houses  shall  be  built,  and  what  is  a  safe 
construction    for  a  ship ;    they  take  measures  for  the 
security  of  railway  travelling;   they  fix  the  hour  after 
which  public-houses  may  not  be  open ;    they  regulate 
the  prices  chai^eable  by  vehicles  plying  in  the  London 
streets ;  they  inspect  lodging-houses ;    they  arrange  for 
town   burial-grounds;    they   fix   the   hours   of    factory 


ON   POLITICAL  EDUCATION.  299 

hands,  In  short,  they  aim  to  control  and  direct  the 
entire  national  life.  If  some  social  process  does  not 
seem  to  them  to  be  going  on  fast  enough,  they  stimu- 
late it ;  where  the  growth  is  not  in  the  mode  or  the 
direction  which  they  think  most  desirable,  they  alter  it  j 
and  so  they  seek  to  realize  some  undefined  ideal  com- 
munity. 

Such  being  the  task  undertaken,  what,  let  us  ask, 
are  the  qualifications  for  discharging  it .''  Supposing  it 
possible  to  achieve  all  this  (which  we  do  not),  what 
must  be  the  knowledge  and  capacities  of  those  who 
shall  achieve  it .''  Successfully  to  prescribe  for  society, 
it  is  needful  to  know  the  structure  of  society — the 
principles  on  which  it  is  organized — the  natural  laws 
underlying  its  progress.  If  there  be  not  a  true  under- 
standing of  what  constitutes  social  development,  there 
must  necessarily  be  grave  mistakes  made  in  checking 
these  changes  and  fostering  those.  If  there  be  lack 
of  insight  respecting  the  mutual  dependence  of  the 
many  functions  which,  taken  together,  make  up  the 
national  life,  unforeseen  disasters  will  ensue  from  not 
perceiving  how  an  interference  with  one  will  affect 
the  rest.  If  there  be  no  knowledge  of  the  natural 
consensus  at  any  time  subsisting  in  the  social  organism, 
there  will  of  course  be  bootless  attempts  to  secure  ends 
which  do  not  consist  with  its  passing  phase  of  organiza- 
tion. Clearly,  before  any  effort  to  regulate  the  myriad 
multiform  changes  going  on  in  a  community,  can  be 
rationally  made,  there  must  be  an  adequate  comprehen- 
sion of  how  these  changes  are  caused,  and  in  what  way 
they  are  related  to  each  other — how  this  entangled  web 
of  phenomena  hangs  together — how  it  came  thu;>,  and 
what  it  is  becoming.     That  is  to  say,  there  must  be  a 


JOO  HERBERT  SPENCER 

due  acquaintance  with  the  social  science — ^the  science 
involving  all  others ;  the  science  standing  above  all 
others  in  subtlety  and  complexity ;  the  science  which 
the  highest  intelh'gence  alone  can  master. 

And  now,  how  far  do  our  legislators  possess  this 
qualification  ?  Do  they  in  any  moderate  degree  display 
it  ?  Do  they  make  even  a  distant  approximation  to  it  ? 
That  many  of  them  are  very  good  classical  scholars  is 
beyond  doubt:  not  a  few  have  written  first-rate  Latin 
verses,  and  can  enjoy  a  Greek  play;  but  there  is  no 
obvious  relation  between  a  memory  well  stocked  with 
the  words  talked  two  thousand  years  ago,  and  an  under- 
standing disciplined  to  deal  with  modern  society.  That 
in  learning  the  languages  of  the  past  they  have  learnt 
some  of  its  history,  is  true ;  but  considering  that  this 
history  is  mainly  a  narrative  of  battles  and  intrigues 
and  negotiations,  it  does  not  throw  much  light  on  social 
philosophy — not  even  the  simplest  principles  of  political 
economy  have  ever  been  gathered  from  it.  We  do  not 
question,  either,  that  a  moderate  percentage  of  members 
of  Parliament  are  fair  mathematicians  ;  and  that  mathe- 
matical discipline  is  valuable.  As,  however,  political 
problems  are  not  susceptible  of  mathematical  analysis, 
their  studies  in  this  direction  cannot  much  aid  them  in 
legislation. 

To  the  large  body  of  military  officers  who  sit  as 
representatives,  we  would  not  for  a  moment  deny  a 
competent  knowledge  of  fortification,  of  strategy,  of 
regimental  discipline,  but  we  do  not  see  that  these 
throw  much  light  on  the  causes  and  cure  of  national 
evils.  Indeed,  considering  that  all  war  is  anti-social, 
and  that  the  government  of  soldiers  is  necessarily  de- 
spotic, military  education  and  habits  are  more  likely  to 


ON   POLITICAL  EDUCATION.  3OI 

unfit  than  to  fit  men  for  regulating  the  doings  of  a  free 
people.  Extensive  acquaintance  with  the  laws,  may 
doubtless  be  claimed  by  the  many  barristers  and  soli- 
citors chosen  by  our  constituencies  ;  and  this  seems  a 
kind  of  information  having  some  relation  to  the  work  to 
be  done.  Unless,  however,  this  information  is  more  than 
technical — unless  it  is  accompanied  by  a  knowledge  of 
the  ramified  consequences  that  laws  have  produced  in 
times  past,  and  are  producing  now  (which  nobody  will 
assert),  it  cannot  give  much  insight  into  Social  Science. 
A  familiarity  with  laws  is  no  more  a  preparation  for 
rational  legislation,  than  would  a  familiarity  with  all  the 
nostrums  men  have  ever  used,  be  a  preparation  for  the 
rational  practice  of  medicine.  Nowhere,  then,  in  our 
representative  body,  do  we  find  appropriate  ciilture. 
Here  is  a  clever  novelist,  and  there  a  successful  maker 
of  railways ;  this  member  has  acquired  a  large  fortune 
in  trade,  and  that  member  is  noted  as  an  agricultural 
improver ;  but  none  of  these  achievements  imply  fitness 
for  controlling  and  adjusting  social  processes.  Among 
the  many  who  have  passed  through  the  public  school 
and  university  curriculum — including  though  thoy  may 
a  few  Oxford  double-firsts  and  one  or  two  Cambridge 
wranglers — there  are  none  who  have  received  the  dis- 
cipline required  by  the  true  legislator.  None  have  that 
competent  knowledge  of  science  in  general,  culmina- 
ting in  the  science  of  life,  which  alone  can  form  a  basis 
for  the  science  of  society. 

For  it  is  one  of  those  open  secrets  which  seem  the 
more  secret  because  they  are  so  open,  that  all  phenomena 
displayed  by  a  nation  are  phenomena  of  life,  and  are 
without  exception  dependent  on  the  laws  of  life.  There 
is  no  growth,  decay,  evil,  improvement,  or  change  of  any 


302  HERBERT  SPENCER 

kind,  going  on  in  the  body  politic,  but  what  has  its 
original  cause  in  the  actions  of  human  beings ;  and 
there  are  no  actions  of  human  beings  but  what  conform 
to  the  laws  of  life  in  general,  and  cannot  be  truly  under- 
stood until  those  laws  are  understood.  We  do  not 
hesitate  to  assert,  that  without  a  knowledge  of  the  laws 
of  life,  and  a  clear  comprehension  of  the  way  in  which 
they  underlie  and  determine  social  growth  and  organi- 
zation, the  attempted  regulation  of  social  life  must  end 
in  perpetual  failures. 

See,  then,  the  immense  incongruity  between  the  end 
and  the  means.  See,  on  the  one  hand,  the  countless 
difficulties  of  the  gigantic  task ;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  almost  total  unpreparedness  of  those  who  undertake 
it.  Need  we  wonder  that  legislation  is  ever  breaking 
down }  Is  it  not  natural  that  complaint,  amendment, 
and  repeal,  should  form  the  staple  business  of  every 
session }  Is  there  anything  more  than  might  be  ex- 
pected in  the  absurd  Jack-Cadeisms  which  almost 
nightly  disgrace  the  debates .'  Even  without  setting  up 
so  high  a  standard  of  qualification  as  that  above  speci- 
fied, the  unfitness  of  most  representatives  for  their  duties 
is  abundantly  manifest.  You  need  but  glance  over  the 
miscellaneous  list  of  noblemen,  baronets,  squires,  mer- 
chants, barristers,  engineers,  soldiers,  sailors,  railway- 
directors,  etc.,  and  then  ask  what  training  their  previous 
lives  have  given  them  for  the  intricate  business  of  legis- 
lation, to  see  at  once  how  extreme  must  be  the  incom- 
petence. One  would  think  that  the  whole  system  had 
been  framed  on  the  sayings  of  some  political  Dog- 
berry : — "  The  art  of  healing  is  difficult,  the  art  of  govern- 
ment easy.  The  understanding  of  arithmetic  comes 
by  study,  while  the  understanding  of  society  comes  by 


ON   POLITICAL  EDUCATION.  303 

instinct.  Watchmaking  requires  a  long  apprenticeship, 
but  there  needs  none  for  the  making  of  institutions.  To 
manage  a  shop  properly  requires  teaching;  but  the 
management  of  a  people  may  be  undertaken  without 
preparation." 


Against  this  danger  the  only  safeguards  appear  to  be, 
the  spread  of  sounder  views  among  the  working  classes, 
and  the  moral  advance  which  such  sounder  views  imply. 

"  That  is  to  say,  the  people  must  be  educated,"  re- 
sponds the  reader.  Yes,  education  is  the  thing  wanted ; 
but  not  the  education  for  which  most  men  agitate. 
Ordinary  school-training  is  not  a  preparation  for  the 
right  exercise  of  political  power.  Conclusive  proof  of 
this  is  given  by  the  fact  that  the  artisans,  from  whose 
mistaken  ideas  the  most  danger  is  to  be  feared,  are  the 
best  informed  of  the  working  classes.  Far  from  pro- 
mising to  be  a  safeguard,  the  spread  of  such  education 
as  is  commonly  given,  appears  more  likely  to  increase 
the  danger.  Raising  the  working  classes  in  general  to 
the  artisan-level  of  culture,  rather  threatens  to  augment 
their  power  of  working  political  evil.  The  current  faith 
in  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic,  as  fitting  men  for 
citizenship,  seems  to  us  quite  unwarranted :  as  are,  in- 
deed, most  other  anticipations  of  the  benefits  to  be  derived 
from  learning  lessons. 

There  is  no  connexion  between  the  ability  to  parse  a 
sentence,  and  a  clear  understanding  of  the  causes  that 
determine  the  rate  of  wages.  The  multiplication-table 
afforcis  no  aid  in  seeing  through  the  fallacy  that  the 
destruction  of  property  is  good  for  trade.    Long  practice 


304  HERBERT  SPENCER 

may  have  produced  extremely  good  penmanship  without 
having  given  the  least  power  to  understand  the  paradox, 
that  machinery  eventually  increases  the  number  of  per- 
sons employed  in  the  trades  into  which  it  is  introduced. 
Nor  is  it  proved  that  smatterings  of  mensuration,  astro- 
nomy, or  geography  fit  men  for  estimating  the  characters 
and  motives  of  Parliamentary  candidates.  Indeed,  we 
have  only  thus  to  bring  together  the  antecedents  and 
the  anticipated  consequents,  to  see  how  untenable  is  the 
belief  in  a  relation  between  them.  When  we  wish  a  girl 
to  become  a  good  musician,  we  seat  her  before  the  piano: 
we  do  not  put  drawing  implements  into  her  hands,  and 
expect  music  to  come  along  with  skill  in  the  use  of 
pencils  and  colour-brushes.  Sending  a  boy  to  pcre  over 
law-books,  would  be  thought  an  extremely  irrational  way 
of  preparing  him  for  civil  engineering.  And  if  in  these 
and  all  other  cases,  we  do  not  expect  fitness  for  any 
function  except  through  instruction  and  exercise  in  that 
function,  why  do  we  expect  fitness  for  citizenship  to  be 
produced  by  a  discipline  which  has  no  relation  to  the 
duties  of  the  citizen  ? 

Probably  it  will  be  replied,  that  by  making  the  work- 
ing man  a  good  reader,  we  give  him  access  to  sources 
of  information  from  which  he  may  learn  how  to  use 
his  electoral  power ;  and  that  other  studies  sharpen  his 
faculties  and  make  him  a  better  judge  of  political  ques- 
tions. This  is  true,  and  the  eventual  tendency  is  un- 
questionably good.  But  what  if,  for  a  long  time  to  come, 
he  reads  only  to  obtain  confirmation  of  his  errors  ? 
What  if  there  exists  a  literature  appealing  to  his  pre- 
judices, and  supplying  him  with  fallacious  arguments  for 
the  mistaken  beliefs  which  he  naturally  takes  up?  Wiiat 
if  he  rcjecU  all  teaching  that  aims  to  disabuse  him  of 


ON   POLITICAL  EDUCATION.  305 

cherished  delusions  ?  Must  we  not  say  that  the  culture 
which  thus  merely  helps  the  workman  to  establish  him- 
self in  error,  rather  unfits  than  fits  him  for  citizenship  ? 
And  do  not  the  trades'-unions  furnish  us  with  examples 
of  this  ? 

How  little  that  which  people  commonly  call  education 
prepares  them  for  the  use  of  political  power,  may  be 
judged  from  the  incompetency  of  those  who  have  re- 
ceived the  highest  education  the  country  affords.  Glance 
back  at  the  blunders  of  our  legislation,  and  then  remem- 
ber that  the  men  who  committed  them  had  mostly  taken 
University  degrees,  and  you  must  admit  that  the  pro- 
foundest  ignorance  of  social  science  may  accompany 
intimate  acquaintance  with  all  that  our  cultivated  classes 
regard  as  valuable  knowledge.  Do  but  take  a  young 
member  of  Parliament  fresh  from  Oxford  or  Cambridge, 
and  ask  him  what  he  thinks  Law  should  do,  and  why  ? 
or  what  it  should  not  do,  and  why  ?  and  it  will  become 
manifest,  that  neither  his  familiarity  with  Aristotle,  nor 
his  readings  in  Thucydides,  have  prepared  him  to  answer 
tlie  very  first  question  a  legislator  ought  to  solve.  A 
single  illustration  will  suffice  to  show  how  different  an 
education  from  that  usually  given,  is  required  by  legis- 
lators, and  consequently  by  those  who  elect  them  ;  we 
mean  the  illustration  which  the  Free-trade  agitation 
supplies.  By  kings,  peers,  and  members  of  Parliament 
mostly  brought  up  at  universities,  trade  had  beer, 
hampered  by  protections,  prohibitions,  and  bounties. 
For  centuries  had  been  maintained  these  legislative  ap- 
pliances, which  a  very  moderate  insight  shows  to  be 
detrimental.  Yet,  of  all  the  highly-educated  throughout 
the  nation  during  these  centuries,  scarcely  a  man  saw 
how  mischievous  such  appliances  were.     Not  from  one 


3°^  HERBERT  SPENCER 

who  devoted  himself  to  the  most  approved  studies,  came 
the  work  which  set  politicians  right  on  these  points ;  but 
from  one  who  left  college  without  a  degree,  and  prose- 
cuted inquiries  which  the  established  education  ignored. 
Adam  Smith  examined  for  himself  the  industrial  phe- 
nomena of  societies ;  contemplated  the  productive  and 
distributive  activities  going  on  around  him  ;  traced  out 
their  complicated  mutual  dependencies;  and  thus  reached 
general  principles  for  political  guidance.  In  recent  days, 
those  who  have  most  clearly  understood  the  truths  he 
enunciated,  and  by  persevering  exposition  have  converted 
the  nation  to  their  views,  have  not  been  graduates  of 
universities.  While,  contrariwise,  those  who  have  passed 
through  the  prescribed  curriculutn,  have  commonly  been 
the  most  bitter  and  obstinate  opponents  of  the  changes 
dictated  by  politico-economical  science.  In  this  all- 
important  direction,  right  legislation  was  urged  by  men 
deficient  in  the  so-called  best  education ;  and  was  resisted 
by  the  great  majority  of  men  who  had  received  this  so- 
called  best  education ! 

The  truth  for  which  we  contend,  and  which  is  so 
strangely  overlooked,  is,  indeed,  almost  a  truism.  Does 
not  our  whole  theory  of  training  imply  that  the  right 
preparation  for  political  power  is  political  cultivation } 
Must  not  that  teaching  which  can  alone  guide  the  citizen 
in  the  fulfilment  of  his  public  actions  be  a  teaching  that 
acquaints  him  with  the  effects  of  public  actions  ^ 

The  second  chief  safeguard  to  which  we  must  trust  is, 
then,  the  spread,  not  of  that  mere  technical  and  miscel- 
laneous knowledge  which  men  are  so  eagerly  propagating, 
but  of  political  knowledge;  or,  to  speak  more  accurately, 
knowledge  of  social  science.  Above  all,  the  essential 
tiling  is,  the  establishment  of  a  true  theory  of  govern- 


ON  POLITICAL  EDUCATION.  307 

ment — a  true  conception  of  what  legislation  is  for,  and 
what  are  its  proper  limits.  This  question,  which  our 
political  discussions  habitually  ignore,  is  a  question  of 
greater  moment  than  any  other.  Inquiries  which  states- 
men deride  as  speculative  and  unpractical,  will  one  day 
be  found  infinitely  more  practical  than  those  which  they 
wade  through  Blue  Books  to  master,  and  nightly  spend 
many  hours  in  debating.  The  considerations  that  every 
morning  fill  a  dozen  columns  of  The  Times,  are  mere 
frivolities  when  compared  with  the  fundamental  con- 
sideration— What  is  the  proper  sphere  of  government } 
Before  discussing  the  way  in  which  law  should  regulate 
some  particular  thing,  would  it  not  be  wise  to  put  the 
previous  question,  whether  law  ought,  or  ought  not,  to 
meddle  with  that  thing  .'*  and  before  answering  this,  to 
put  the  more  general  question — What  law  should  do,  and 
what  it  should  leave  undone  ?  Surely,  if  there  are  any 
limits  at  all  to  legislation,  the  settlement  of  these  limits 
must  have  effects  far  more  profound  than  any  particular 
Act  of  Parliament  can  have;  and  must  be  by  so  much 
the  more  momentous.  Surely,  if  there  is  danger  that 
the  people  may  misuse  political  power,  it  is  of  supreme 
importance  that  they  should  be  taught  for  what  purpose 
political  power  ought  alone  to  be  used. 

Did  the  upper  classes  understand  their  position,  they 
would,  we  think,  see  that  the  diffusion  of  sound  views  on 
this  matter  more  nearly  concerns  their  own  welfare,  and 
that  of  the  nation  at  large,  than  any  other  thing  what- 
ever. Popular  influence  will  inevitably  go  on  increasing. 
Should  the  masses  gain  a  predominent  power  while  their 
ideas  of  social  arrangements  and  legislative  action  re- 
main as  crude  as  at  present,  there  will  certainly  result 
disastrous  meddlings  with  the  relations  of  capital  and 


308     HERBERT  SPENCER  ON  PO1.ITICAL  EDUCATION. 

labour,  as  well  as  a  disastrous  extension  of  State-admi- 
nistrations. Immense  damage  will  be  inflicted-  primarily 
on  employers  ;  secondarily  on  the  employed  ;  aad  event- 
ually on  the  nation  as  a  whole.  These  evils  can  be 
prevented,  only  by  establishing  in  the  public  mind  a 
profound  conviction  that  there  are  certain  comparatively 
narrow  limits  to  the  functions  of  the  State;  and  that 
these  limits  ought  on  no  account  to  be  transgressed. 
Having  first  learned  what  these  limits  are,  the  upper 
classes  ought  energetically  to  use  all  means  of  teaching 
them  to  the  people. 


ON    EARLY   MENTAL  TRAINING  AND 
THE  STUDIES  BEST  FITTED  FOR  IT. 

BY 

F.  A.  P.  BARNARD,  LL.D., 

PRESIDENT   OF  COLUMBIA   COLLEGE. 

READ  BEFORE  THE  UNIVERSITY  CONVOCATION  FOR  1866. 


EARLY  MENTAL  TRAINING,  AND   THE 
STUDIES  FITTEST  FOR  IT. 

Whenever  it  happens  that  any  subject  interesting  to 
man  becomes  matter  of  protracted  controversy,  the  zeal 
Df  opposing  parties  often  carries  them  so  far,  as  to  make 
both  of  them  equally  intolerant  of  one  who  is  not  wholly 
with  themselves,  though  at  the  same  time  he  may  be  by 
no  means  with  their  adversaries.  The  task,  therefore,  of 
one  who  undertakes  to  show — what  is  usually  true — that 
to  a  certain  extent  both  parties  are  in  the  right,  while 
neither  is  wholly  so,  is  by  no  means  an  easy  one.  He  is 
very  likely  to  incur  the  disapproval  of  both,  while  he  is 
not  sure  to  conciliate  the  favor  of  either. 

This  consideration  embarrasses  me  in  the  attempt  I  am 
about  to  make,  to  exhibit  certain  views  connected  with 
our  system  of  higher  education,  founded  upon  convictions 
which  have  long  been  gradually  growing  upon  me,  but 
which  I  apprehend  are  not  likely  to  be  in  full  accordance 
with  those  of  anv  considerable  number  of  the  experienced 
educators  whom  I  have  the  pleasure  of  addressing. 

In  the  discussions  which  have  taken  place  in  our  time 
with  respect  to  the  merits  of  our  system  of  collegiate  edu- 
cation, the  field  has  been  occupied  almost  exclusively  by 
two  parties  holding  opinions  widely  discordant ;  so  much 
so,  indeed,  as  hardly  to  admit  of  any  description  of  com- 
promise. One  of  these  parties,  which  may  properly  be 
styled  the  conservative,  has  made  classical  learning  its 
21 


312 


DR.    BARNARD   ON 


watchword,  and  has  steadily  resisted  the  encroachnient* 
upon  our  time-honored  course  of  modern  science  in  aH 
its  branches.  It  has  regarded  every  slight  recognition 
which  has  been  made  of  the  value  o^  this  knowledge,  as  an 
unwise  concession  to  popular  clamor  and  a  wrong  done  to 
the  cause  of  education  ;  and  has  maintained,  or  if  it  spoke 
its  full  thought  would  doubtless  maintain,  that  the  colle- 
giate education  of  this  country  was  vastly  better  at  the 
close  of  the  eighteenth  century  than  it  is  now,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  nineteenth.  The  other,  which  styles  itself  the 
progressive,  and  is  styled  by  its  opponents  the  destructive 
party,  denounces  with  contempt  a  system  which  rests,  as 
it  asserts,  upon  a  literature  and  a  history  which  have  long 
since  ceased  to  have  any  living  interest  for  the  human 
race  ;  and  occupies  itself  with  the  painful  study  of  lan- 
guages which  exist  only  as  literary  curiosities,  and  which 
will  never  more  be  either  spoken  or  written;  while,  shut 
ting  its  eyes  to  the  condition  of  the  living  world  of  to-day, 
It  treats  as  unworthy  of  notice  the  great  discoveries  which 
in  recent  times  have  revolutionized  the  aspect  of  society 
and  transformed  the  whole  surface  of  the  planet,  is  indif- 
ferent to  the  great  lessons  of  political  and  social  science 
to  be  drawn  from  the  fruitful  pages  of  modern  history, 
and  finally  flings  its  Sieves  into  the  midst  of  the  world's 
conflicts,  as  little  prepared  to  deal  with  the  real  problems 
of  life  as  if  they  had  dropped  from  the  moon. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the  actual  state  of  our 
educational  system  satisfies  neither  of  these  extreme 
classes.  The  former  are  chagrined  that  so  much  has 
been  already  lost ;  the  latter  are  discontented  that  so  little 
has  yet  been  won.  But  there  has  gradually  been  growing 
up  a  third  class,  limited  as  yet  perhaps  in  numbers,  who, 
without  falling  in  the  least  behind  the  first  of  those  just 


EARLY   MENTAL  TRAINING,  ojo 

described  in  their  esteem  for  the  ancient  learning,  have 
perceived  that  the  time  has  come  when  that  learning  must 
abandon  its  claims  to  an  absolute  monopoly  of  the  educa- 
tional field,  and  are  now  earnestly  inquiring  whereabouts 
in  the  educational  course  and  to  what  extent  it  may  prof- 
itably be  superseded.  It  is  to  this  class,  small  perhaps  as 
yet  in  numbers  and  inconsiderable  in  weight  of  influence, 
to  which  I  avow  myself  to  belong.  Hitherto  the  atten- 
tion of  this  class  has  been  principally  occupied  with  the 
teaching  of  colleges — taking  it  apparently  for  granted  that 
the  course  of  preparatory  study,  which  is  substantially  the 
same  everywhere,  is  susceptible  of  no  material  improve- 
ment and  needs  no  essential  modification.  But  it  is  pre- 
cisely at  this  point,  as  it^i^eems  to  me,  that  modification  is 
most  necessary  j  and  it  is  here  that  I  desire  to  suggest 
that  a  suitable  modification  may  be  at  once  the  means  of 
accomplishing  more  efficiently  the  general  ends  of  educa- 
tion (which  is  of  course  the  matter  to  be  first  looked  af- 
ter), and  of  rendering  at  the  same  time  instruction  in  clas- 
sical learning  more  productive  than  it  is  at  present  of  tan- 
gible results. 

More  productive,  I  say,  of  tangible  results.  For  what 
are,  in  fact,  the  results  which  we  do  actually  reach  in  the 
teaching  of  the  classics  at  this  time  ?  Are  they  in  truth 
any  thing  like  what  we  claim  for  them  ?  We  hear,  for 
instance,  a  great  deal  said  of  the  intellectual  treasures 
locked  up  in  the  languages  of  Greece  and  Rome,  which 
it  is  asserted  that  our  system  of  education  throws  open  to 
the  student  freely  to  enjoy.  And  yet  we  know  that  prac- 
tically this  claim  is  without  foundation.  It  will  not,  1 
presume,  be  affirmed  of  the  graduates  of  American  col- 
.eges  generally,  that  they  become  familiar  with  any  por- 
tions of  the  literature  of  Rome  and  Greece,  which  do  no{ 


3H 


DR.   BARNARD    OK 


form  part  of  their  compulsory  reading.  It  will  hardly  be 
affirmed  that  one  in  ten  of  them  does  so.  And  why  not ' 
The  reason  is  twofold.  First,  there  is  hardly  one  in  ten, 
in  whose  mino  the  classics  ever  cease  to  be  associated  with 
notions  of  painful  labor.  Reading  is  not  therefore  pur- 
sued beyond  the  limit  of  what  is  required,  because  it  is 
not  agreeable.  But  secondly  and  chiefly,  there  is  hardly 
one  in  ten  whose  knowledge  of  the  Latin  or  the  Greek  is 
ever  sufficiently  familiar  to  give  him  the  command  of  the 
ancient  literature  which  it  is  asserted  for  him  that  he  en- 
joys. I  suppose  that  to  read  with  any  satisfaction  any 
work  in  any  language,  we  should  be  able  to  give  our  at- 
tention to  the  ideas  that  it  conveys,  without  being  embar- 
rassed or  confused  by  want  of  familiarity  with  the  machin- 
ery through  which  they  are  imparted.  It  will  not  be  for 
mere  pleasure  that  we  shall  pursue  our  task,  if  every  sen- 
tence brings  us  a  new  necessity  to  turn  over  our  lexicons, 
or  to  reason  out  a  probable  meaning  by  the  application  of 
the  laws  of  syntax.  And  yet,  if  there  are  any  of  our 
graduates  who  are  able,  without  such  embarrassments,  to 
read  a  classical  author,  never  attempted  before,  the  num- 
ber must  be  very  {evf.  If  there  are  any  who  can  read 
even  such  books  of  Latin  or  Greek  as  they  have  read  be- 
fore, with  any  thing  like  the  fluency  with  which  they  read 
their  mother  tongue,  the  number  cannot  be  large  ;  and  if 
there  are  any  who  can  read,  with  similar  facility,  classic 
works  which  they  take  up  for  the  first  time,  it  is  so  small 
that  I  have  never  seen  one. 

It  appears  to  me,  then,  that  the  results  actually  attained 
under  our  present  system  of  instruction  are  neither  very 
flattering  nor  very  encouraging.  We  should  certainly  not 
have  been  so  content  with  them  as  we  seem,  if  we  had 
not  all  along  kept  up  before  us  the  fiction  that  thev  are 


EARLY   MENTAL   TRAINING. 


315 


not  what  they  are,  but  what  they  ought  to  be.  For  a 
period  varying  from  seven  to  ten  years  (four  years  in  col- 
lege and  from  three  to  six  in  preparation),  we  keep  young 
men  under  a  course  of  instruction  in  Latin  and  Greek, 
and,  at  the  end  of  that  time,  they  are  unable,  in  any 
proper  sense,  to  read  either  the  one  or  the  other.  Can 
a  person  be  said  to  know  a  language  which  he  cannot 
read  ?  And  is  it  a  result  worth  the  time  and  labor  ex- 
pended upon  it  to  attain  such  a  doubtful  acquaintance  with 
a  language  or  any  thing  else,  as  that  which  the  majority 
of  our  graduates  carry  away  with  them  of  these,  at  the 
close  of  their  educational  career  ?  Might  not  the  same 
amount  of  time  and  labor  differently  employed  have  pro- 
duced at  last  something  having  a  value  at  least  apprecia- 
ble ?  And  is  not  the  immense  disproportion  between  labor 
expended  and  results  obtained,  itself  the  best  evidence 
that  this  labor  has  not  been  expended  most  wisely  for  the 
accomplishment  of  its  own  avowed  end  ?  For  surely 
there  cannot  be  any  language,  dead  or  living,  in  the  known 
world,  which  any  intelligent  person  ought  not  to  be  able 
to  acquire,  so  as  at  least  to  read  it,  in  a  course  ot  ten 
years'  study.* 

I  know  that  we  are  continually  informed,  when  we 
complain  of  the  meagreness  of  the  actual  results  reached 
in  the  classical  teaching  of  our  colleges,  that  it  is  not  after 
all  so  much  on  account  of  the  knowledge  acquired  that 

*  It  need  hardly  be  said  that  there  is  no  intention,  in  these  remarks,  to 
question  the  fact  of  the  existence  among  us  of  accomplished  and  thorough 
classical  scholars.  That  we  have  such,  and  not  a  few  of  them,  I  am  proud  to 
believe.  Bat  how  many  of  them  became  so  in  school  or  in  college  ?  That  is 
the  question  immediately  before  us.  Our  scholars,  as  a  rule,  are  self-made. 
Their  scholarship  is  the  growth  of  their  maturer  life.  The  observations  of  the 
text  are  to  be  understood  of  American  students  at  their  graduation  as  Bachelori 
of  Arts — not  later. 


3ib 


DR.   BARNARD   ON 


these  studies  are  useful — it  is  because  of  the  adm'uable 
intellectual  discipline  which  they  furnish,  and  which  it  is 
claimed  for  them  that  they  only  can  furnish  so  well. 
This  question  we  will  waive  for  the  moment ;  but  in  the 
mean  time  we  may  take  occasion  to  note  that  the  educa- 
tionist who  falls  back  upon  this  ground,  admits  in  so  doing, 
that  the  other  is  untenable,  and  that  the  value  of  these 
languages  which  has  been  so  much  insisted  on,  in  opening 
up  to  the  student  all  the  choicest  literary  treasures  of  the 
world  of  antiquity,  is  for  the  majority  of  our  graduates 
practically  zero.  And  the  admission  may  as  well  be  made, 
though  in  making  it  we  shall  reduce  to  the  form  of  empty 
pretence,  and  rate  as  no  better  than  so  much  idle  wind,  a 
vast  proportion  of  what  has  been  written  in  eulogy  of  the 
educational  uses  of  the  classics.  We  may  as  well  admit 
it,  I  say,  because  it  is  true  ;  and  until  we  recognize  the 
truth  in  regard  to  the  condition  of  our  educational  instru- 
mentalities or  methods,  we  can  never  proceed  intelligently 
to  make  them  better.  Nor  will  it  render  the  truth  I  insist 
on  any  the  less  positive,  or  the  admission  any  the  less  ne- 
cessary, that  there  may  be  here  and  there  exceptions  to 
the  general  rule,  that  now  and  then  there  may  be  found  a 
student  whose  eight  or  ten  years'  study  of  the  ancient  lan- 
guages may  have  really  enabled  him  to  read  them.  No 
one  who  claims  this  can  claim  that  such  cases  are  any 
thing  but  exceptions.  Even  in  the  British  universities, 
where  the  preference  given  to  classical  study  is  greatly 
more  decided  than  with  us,  and  where  its  prosecution  i? 
stimulated  by  the  promise  of  the  most  brilliant  rewards, 
even  there  such  cases,  though  naturally  more  numerous 
than  nere,  are  only  exceptional  still.  In  fact,  their  systeni 
would  almost  seem  to  have  been  expressly  made  for  the 
production  of  these  exceptions,  and  nothing  else,  without 


iiARLY  MENTAL   TRAfNING.  317 

he  slightest  thought  of  or  regard  for  the  greatest  good  of 
the  greatest  number ;  for  certainly  it  could  not  have  ac- 
complished the  thing  better,  if  it  had  been  really  devised 
with  that  deliberate  intent.  No  system  of  performing  the 
work  of  education,  or  for  performing  any  other  work,  can 
be  called  a  good  system,  which  fails  with  the  great  major- 
ity and  succeeds  only  with  the  few. 

But  then,  if  the  argument  so  often  used  in  defence  of 
our  system,  derived  from  the  great  value  of  the  classical 
knowledge  it  is  presumed  to  impart,  be  fallacious,  is  not  at 
least  that  which  rests  upon  the  disciplinary  efficacy  of  clas- 
sical study  more  substantial  ?  Upon  this  point,  again, 
there  is  some  reason  to  believe  that  our  educationists  ac- 
cept too  readily  what  might  be  for  what  is.  If  mental 
discipline  consists  in  invigorating  the  mental  faculties  by 
wholesome  exercise,  and  in  training  them  to  habits  of 
method  in  exercise,  it  is  indeed  certain  that  the  study  of 
language,  undertaken  at  the  suitable  stage  in  the  process 
of  culture,  must  prove  a  most  efficacious  instrumentality — 
perhaps  the  most  efficacious  of  all — for  accomplishing  this 
object.  But  to  place  before  the  immature  mind  a  subject 
which  might  possibly  later  call  into  exercise  certain  of  its 
powers,  say  for  instance  comparison,  judgment,  reasoning, 
is  not  by  any  means  to  insure  that,  under  the  actual  cir- 
cumstances, it  will  do  so.  It  may  hardly  awaken  an  ac- 
tive faculty  at  all,  and  may  remain  merely  matter  of  con- 
sciousness and  memory.  And  especially  is  it  probable 
that  in  early  life  the  higher  faculties,  the  reflective  and 
reasoning  powers,  will  fail  to  respond  to  the  provocatives 
addressed  to  them,  when  those  provocatives  consist  of 
abstractions  which  are  not  themselves  conceived  without 
effort. 

The  first  step,  for  instance,  in  the  process  of  reasoning, 


3l8  DR.    BARNAKD   ON 

is  comparison.  The  easiest  efforts  of  comparison  arc 
made  when  the  objects  are  objects  of  simple  perception  ; 
and  if  Nature  dictates  any  thing  on  the  subject  of  educa- 
tion too  plainly  to  admit  of  mistake,  it  is  that  children 
should  first  be  taught  to  compare  by  the  help  of  visible 
things.  But  if  this  plain  dictate  of  Nature  is  disregarded, 
and  we  present  to  immature  minds,  as  subjects  of  thought, 
definitions  (for  instance)  of  the  parts  of  speech,  or  the 
distinctions  between  the  dative  and  ablative  case,  the  prob- 
ability is  that  no  comparison  or  discrimination  will  be  ex- 
ercised at  all,  and  that  the  only  faculty  which  will  come 
into  play  wia  oe  the  memory.  I  say  the  probability  is, 
but  I  might  better  say  the  certainty ;  and  if  personal  ex- 
perience is  worth  any  thing  in  the  case,  I  may  add  that  in 
one  instance,  at  least,  this  certainty  has  been  to  me  matter 
of  knowledge. 

Valuable  then  as  is  the  study  of  language  for  its  educa- 
tional uses,  it  does  not  follow  that  it  is  so  for  the  earliest 
stages  of  education.  Still  less,  at  that  early  period,  will 
that  language  be  found  useful,  of  which  the  structure  is 
the  most  complicated,  the  inflections  the  most  numerous, 
the  syntax  the  most  artificial,  and  the  order  of  words  and 
clauses  in  a  sentence  the  most  widely  contrasted  with  that 
which  prevails  in  the  learner's  own  vernacular.  And  yet 
such  a  language  possesses  in  the  highest  degree  the  proper- 
ties which  make  of  language  a  useful  educational  instru- 
mentality, provided  the  proper  place  be  assigned  to  it  in 
the  educational  course. 

There  is  a  professor  of  physical  trainmg  in  New  York 
who  promises  a  wonderful  development  of  the  muscles  of 
the  arms  and  chest,  to  such  as  choose  to  practise  undet 
his  direction  for  a  few  months  in  wielding  certain  ponder- 
ous clubs — thirty  pounds,  more  or  less,  I  believe,  in  weight 


EARLY   MENTAL   TRAINING. 


319 


He  can  point  to  some  striking  living  examples  of  the  suc- 
cess which  has  attended  his  method  ;  but  I  have  never 
heard  that  he  had  placed  his  clubs  in  the  hands  of  boys 
of  ten  years  old.  And  so,  v/hen  we  impose  on  the  intel- 
lects of  boys,  at  the  same  tender  age,  a  burden  like  that 
of  the  grammar  of  the  Latin  or  the  Greek  language,  we 
overtask  them  as  much  as  we  should  overtask  their  bodily 
strength  by  requiring  them  to  go  through  a  gymnastic  ex- 
ercise with  a  club  of  thirty  pounds'  weight.  They  can 
lift  the  burden  no  more  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other. 
They  do  not  lift  it,  though  we  may  persuade  ourselves 
that  they  do,  because  we  tie  them  to  it  and  leave  them 
there.  And  by  this  I  mean  to  say  that  the  study  of  Latin 
and  Greek,  between  the  ages  of  eight  and  twelve  (I  have 
heard  of  cases  in  which  the  study  began  at  six),  does  not 
really  serve  the  educational  purpose  that  it  is  supposed  to 
do  ;  does  not  really  occupy  the  reflective  and  reasoning 
powers  of  the  mind,  but  exercises  almost  exclusively  the 
memory.  But  then,  if  it  does  not  do  this,  it  does  some- 
thing worse.  It  blinds  us  to  the  fact  that  the  educational 
process  is  not  going  on  at  all,  at  the  very  most  important 
and  critical  time  in  the  youthful  learner's  life.  It  pre- 
vents us  from  perceiving  that  the  mind  which  we  are  en- 
deavoring to  train,  refusing  a  task  to  which  it  is  unequal, 
remains  inactive,  except  in  the  very  humblest  of  its  facul- 
ties. It  conceals  from  us  the  unhappy  truth  that  the  per- 
ceptive powers  remain  dormant  or  sluggish  ;  that  the  pow- 
ers of  comparison,  analysis,  judgment,  and  reasoning,  are 
never  called  into  action  ;  and  that  the  period  of  life  when 
habits  of  careful  observation  are  most  easily  formed,  when 
in  fact  they  must  be  formed,  or  never  formed  at  all,  is 
passing  away  unim{)roved. 

To  me,  therefore,  it  seems  to  be  an   error  of  very  se- 


320 


DR.  BARNARD   ON 


rious  gravity  to  suppose  that  the  study  of  the  ancient  lan- 
guages £1  A  very  early  period  of  life  is  a  means  of  valuable 
and  wholesome  mental  discipline.  That  study  seems  to 
me  rather,  at  that  time,  to  act  as  a  sedative,  repressing  the 
activity  of  the  higher  mental  powers,  than  as  a  stimulant 
awakening  them  to  exertion.  And  no  stronger  corrobora 
tion  of  the  justice  of  this  view  could  be  presented  than  is 
to  be  found  in  the  very  moderate  amount  of  attainment 
which  appears  in  the  end  to  be  acquired,  as  the  result  of 
all  this  labor.  The  object  of  education,  considered  as  a 
formative  process,  is  not  indeed  directly  the  increase  of 
knowledge.  It  is  to  form  and  not  to  inform  the  mind. 
But  there  is  no  process  of  formation  which  does  not  im- 
ply information.  There  is  no  species  of  mental  exercise 
in  which  the  understanding  is  not  employed  in  the  acqui- 
sition of  new  truths,  or  in  forming  new  combinations  of 
familiar  truths,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  enlarge  the  scope 
of  our  ideas.  And  in  so  far  as  the  processes  we  call  edu- 
cational fail  to  increase  knowledge,  although  not  planned 
with  that  express  intent,  in  precisely  so  far  they  fail  to  ac- 
complish their  proper  end.  There  is  then  no  impropriet) 
in  judging  of  the  educational  value  of  any  study  by  con- 
sidering how  much  it  has  contributed  to  the  learner's  stock 
of  positive  knowledge,  and  what  proportion  this  addition 
bears  to  the  time  which  has  been  devoted  to  securing  it. 
Now,  imperfect  as  is  the  acquaintance  of  our  college 
graduates  with  the  languages  which  occupy  so  largely  their 
attention  throughout  their  whole  educational  course,  there 
is  no  doubt  that  the  greater  part  of  what  they  know  of 
them  is  acquired  after  they  become  members  of  college. 
And  yet,  considering  the  exclusiveness  with  which,  in  the 
preparatory  schools,  they  are  confined  to  these  subjects  of 
study,  there  's  as  little  doubt  that  the  time  they  expend  on 


1 


EARLY   MENTAL   TRAINING. 


321 


hem  in  those  schools  exceeds  in  most  cases,  and  very 
much  exceeds  in  many,  all  that  they  can  give  to  them 
afterward.  That  is  to  say,  in  the  earlier  years  the  study 
is  comparatively  barren  of  results ;  it  fails  to  impart  an 
amount  of  knowledge  bearing  any  fair  proportion  to  the 
amount  of  time  expended  on  it.  And  this  fact  is  suffi- 
cient proof  in  itself  that  the  disciplinary  value  of  the  study, 
at  that  period  of  the  education,  cannot  be  what  has  been 
claimed  for  it. 

I  shall  be  very  much  misunderstood  if  I  am  supposed, 
because  of  what  I  have  said,  to  undervalue  classical  learn- 
ing. I  shall  be  misunderstood  if  I  am  supposed  to  desire 
to  exclude  the  classics  from  our  course  of  liberal  educa- 
tion. No  one  places  a  higher  estimate  upon  the  ancient 
learning  than  I  do.*  No  one  feels  more  sensibly  than  I 
the  force  of  all  the  arguments  which  have  been  urged  in 
its  favor.     The  influence  which  the  perusal  of  the  many 

*  It  seems  worth  while  to  insist  a  little  upon  this  point.  There  is  a  great 
deal  that  is  sensible  and  well  worth  attention  uttered  by  the  class  of  educa- 
tional controversialists  who  take  the  greatest  pains  to  display  their  contempt  of 
classical  learning  5  but  this  fails  to  impress  their  opponents,  because  their  hete- 
rodoxy upon  the  point  esteemed  most  vitally  important  discredits  them  with 
these  upon  every  other.  The  writer  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  such.  He 
has  labored  as  earnestly  as  any  man  in  vindication  of  the  claims  of  classical 
learning  to  the  prominent  place  which  it  holds  in  our  system  of  higher  educa- 
tion— a  place  which  he  hopes  to  see  it  still  maintain.  But  there  is  certainly 
danger,  and  a  daily  increasing  danger,  that  it  will  lose  this  pre-eminence  ;  and 
this  appears  to  the  writer  to  be  inevitable,  unless  some  such  reform  as  is  rec- 
ommended above  shall  be  introduced  into  the  earher  periods  of  the  educational 
course.  So  far,  therefore,  is  the  writer  in  what  he  has  said  from  meditating 
any  assAult  upon  the  classics,  that  he  honestly  believes  that  the  prevalence  of 
the  views  here  advocated,  and  the  practical  consequences  which  would  follow, 
would  do  more  than  any  thing  else  to  fortify  them  against  assault,  and  to  quiel 
the  growing  disposition  to  assail  them.  This  belief  may  be  a  mistaken  one  ; 
but  however  that  may  be,  its  existence  is  an  evidence  that  the  foregoing  re 
marks  and  "-easonings  are  dictated  by  a  friendly  and  not  by  a  hostile  spirit. 


J22 


DR.    BARNARD   ON 


models  of  literary  excellence  which  it  furnishes  upon  the 
formation  of  a  correct  taste  in  letters,  the  pleasure  which 
the  perusal  of  such  affords  to  those  who  are  able  to  read 
them  freely  in  their  original  tongues,  the  importance  of  an 
acquaintance  with  the  ancient  languages  to  the  correct 
understanding  and  scholarly  use  of  our  own,  the  many 
modes  in  which  the  history  of  ancient  polity  and  ancient 
thought  has  affected  the  course  of  events  in  more  recent 
times,  in  the  political  no  less  than  in  the  intellectual  world 
— these  considerations,  and  others  like  them,  will  ever  se^ 
cure  for  the  ancient  learning  a  large  space  in  any  judicious 
system  of  liberal  mental  culture.  Nor  do  I  in  the  least 
question  that  the  disciplinary  value  of  these  studies,  con- 
sidered as  furnishing  a  wholesome  mental  gymnastics,  is, 
when  introduced  at  the  right  time  and  in  the  right  place, 
all  that  has  been  claimed  for  them.  What  I  maintain  is 
that  the  right  time  is  not,  as  the  prevailing  practice  as- 
sumes, the  period  of  emergence  from  childhood,  and  the 
right  place  is  not  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  educational 
course.  By  giving  them  the  false  position  which  they  at 
present  occupy,  we  seem  to  me  to  accomplish  three  evils 
at  the  same  time.  First,  we  fail  to  secure  any  thing  like 
such  a  degree  of  attainment  in  the  classics  themselves,  as 
the  labor  bestowed  upon  them  ought  to  produce  ;  secondly, 
we  prevent  the  learner  from  acquiring  much  substantially 
useful  knowledge,  for  which  no  opportunity  so  fitting  will 
again  occur  ;  and  thirdly — which  is  most  important  of  all 
— we  display  a  singular  disregard  of  the  plain  indications 
of  Nature,  who  herself  points  out  the  order  in  which  the 
faculties  should  be  drawn  out  into  action. 

Curiosity  is  the  most  marked  mental  characteristic  of 
childhood.  This  trait  manifests  itself  in  the  thousand 
questions  with  which  the  child  assails  and  often  annoys  all 


EARLY   MENTAL   TRAINING. 


323 


hose  who  surround  him.  It  manifests  itself  in  the  exu- 
berant and  enthusiastic  delight  with  which  he  overflows  at 
the  sight  of  every  new  thing.  It  manifests  itself  in  the 
eagerness  with  which  he  lays  hold  of  and  scrutinizes  every 
object  within  his  reach  which  he  does  not  understand. 
It  manifests  itself  in  the  interest  with  which  he  traces  the 
simplest  effects  to  their  immediate  causes.  It  manifests 
Itself  in  his  lively  sensibility  to  all  the  impressions  of 
sense.  It  manifests  itself  in  the  activity  of  his  observa- 
tion of  all  the  minute  particulars  of  every  new  scene. 

All  these  things  serve  to  show  how  remarkably  at  this 
period  of  life  the  perceptive  faculties  are  in  advance  of  the 
others  in  the  order  of  development.  They  furnish  proof, 
if  proof  were  needed,  of  what  is  Nature's  educational 
plan.  And  as  it  is  sometimes  permitted  us  to  discover  the 
wisdom  of  the  order  which  the  Supreme  Creator  has  es- 
tablished to  govern  the  works  of  His  hands,  so  here  we 
perceive  of  how  inappreciable  importance  to  the  welfare 
of  the  race  is  the  fact  that  the  predominant  characteristic 
of  the  infant  mind  is  the  instinctive  desire  to  know,  and 
how  favorable  to  the  rapid  multiplication  of  ideas  is  the 
restless  activity  of  the  perceptive  powers  which  accompa- 
nies this  desire.  For  the  child  comes  into  the  world  totally 
ignorant.  Even  the  simplest  facts  which  it  concerns  his 
immediate  personal  safety  to  know,  are  to  be  acquired  by 
him  by  observation  and  experience.  That  fire  is  hot  and 
that  ice  is  cold,  that  the  moon  is  more  distant  than  the 
candle,  and  that  the  candle  is  more  agreeable  to  look  at 
than  to  touch  ;  these  are  rudimentary  truths  which  it  is 
useless  to  tell  him — he  must  learn  them  for  himself.  And 
in  the  same  way  all  his  elementary  knowledge,  of  what 
ever  description,  must  be  acquired.  Much  of  this  is  an 
acquisition  earlier  than  language.     It  must  be  so,  for  Ian- 


j24  OR.    BARNARD   ON 

guage  is  but  symbolic  of  ideas,  and  signs  will  not  be  used 
until  there  is  something  to  be  signified.  In  the  earliest 
period  of  life,  therefore,  oral  teaching  is  impossible.  No 
medium  exists  through  which  it  can  be  conveyed.  The 
instructions  of  the  parent  or  the  nurse  must  be  limited  to 
the  endeavor  to  enlarge  the  child's  vocabulary  by  associa- 
ting in  his  mind  visible  objects  or  recognizable  expressions 
of  emotion  in  the  countenance  or  gesture,  with  the  sounds 
by  which  these  are  recalled  in  language.  To  attempt  to 
expound  to  him  one  word  by  the  help  of  others,  is  an  ab- 
surdity never  thought  of.  And  even  after  language  has 
been  acquired,  sufficient  for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  life, 
It  holds  for  a  long  time  but  a  subordinate  place  as  an  in- 
strument of  instruction.  It  may  be  employed  with  great 
effect  to  direct  and  assist  the  powers  of  observation,  but 
if  relied  on  solely  as  a  means  of  conveying  new  ideas,  the 
result  cannot  fail  to  be  unsatisfactory.  Objects,  facts, 
phenomena,  must  themselves  be  directly  presented  to  the 
learner,  or  there  will  be  no  substantial  growth  in  knowl- 
edge. Seeing  thus  the  absolute  dependency  of  the  child 
upon  his  own  unaided  perceptive  powers  for  all  his  earliest 
knowledge,  and  seeing  to  how  very  great  a  degree  he  con 
tinues  long  to  be  dependent  upon  the  exercise  of  the  same 
powers  for  his  subsequent  advancement,  we  easily  recog- 
nize the  admirable  wisdom  of  that  provision  of  the  Crea- 
tor by  which  these  powers,  first  of  all  and  in  the  very 
dawn  of  life,  spontaneously  awaken,  and  manifest  after 
ward  through  all  the  earlier  years  of  existence,  an  activity 
which  never  tires  and  which  will  not  be  repressed. 

Now,  I  hold  it  to  be  the  first  principle  of  a  sound  edu- 
cational philosophy,  that  the  powers  of  the  mind  should 
be  subjected  to  culture  in  the  most  natural  order ;  and 
what  I  understand  by  natural  order,  is  the  order  in  which 


EARLY  MENTAL  TRAINING. 


325 


he  powers  unfold  themselves  when  they  are  subjected  to 
no  artificial  control  at  all.  If  this  is  not  the  test  of  what 
is  natural,  then  we  have  no  test.  And  I  suppose  that  the 
reason  why  we  should  follow  Nature,  is  because  Nature 
will  thus  most  willingly  follow  us.  The  tasks  we  impose 
will  be  pleasing,  because  they  will  be  adapted  to  the 
strength.  The  learner  will  easily  submit  himself  to  our 
guidance,  because  we  take  him  in  the  direction  in  which 
he  is  already  incUned  to  go.  He  will  understand  what  we 
require  of  him,  and  he  will  be  encouraged  because  he  un- 
derstands. • 

I  do  not  mean  to  assert  that  any  judicious  course  of  in- 
struction can  be  devised  which  shall  present  nothing  but  a 
series  of  unmingled  delights.  I  am  not  of  the  visionary 
class  who  believe  that  continuous  mental  effort  will  ever, 
under  any  system,  be  attended,  for  the  majority  of  indi- 
viduals, with  the  same  exhilaration  and  eagerness  of  spirit 
with  which  the  same  individuals  are  found  to  pursue  the 
athletic  sports  by  which  their  physical  powers  may  be  de- 
veloped. They  who,  Hke  Herbert  Spencer,  take  such  a 
ground  as  this,  only  injure  the  cause  they  would  befriend, 
and  weaken  the  force  of  their  otherwise  unanswerable  ar- 
guments. The  effort  which  is  useful,  whether  it  be  phys 
ical  or  mental,  must  always  partake  of  the  character  of 
labor,  and  labor  brings  with  it  sometimes  weariness  and 
pain.  But  what  I  do  say  is,  that  the  labor  need  not  be 
made  a  repulsive  labor,  as  it  always  must  be  when  it  brings 
with  it  no  recognizable,  or  at  least  no  adequate  profit ;  but 
may  be  made  so  richly  productive  as  actually  to  become 
positively  attractive. 

Now,  in  what  I  have  just  said,  I  believe  there  is  noth- 
ing which  is  not,  in  the  abstract,  perfectly  orthodox — 
nothing  which  will  not  meet  the  approval  of  every  educa 


326 


DR.   BARNARD   ON 


tionist  who  hears  me.  I  wish  to  inquire,  therefore,  to 
what  extent  it  is  practically  true,  that  in  our  established 
•system  of  liberal  culture  we  conform  to  the  order  which 
Nature  points  out  to  us  ?  Is  it  true  that  we  make  the 
development  and  training  of  the  perceptive  faculties  the 
first  object  of  our  attention  ?  Is  it,  as  it  ought  to  be,  our 
first  great  aim  to  improve  the  powers  of  observation,  of 
analysis,  of  induction,  of  classification  ?  Are  all  the  stud- 
ies which  we  prescribe  to  boys,  as  preparatory  to  their 
introduction  to  the  abstruser  subjects  of  grammar,  and 
logic,  and  ethics,  and  rhetoric,  and  metaphysics,  directed 
to  this  end  ?  Is  there  even  a  single  one  of  them  that  is  ? 
We  know  that  it  is  not  so.  Beyond  those  most  elemen- 
tary branches  of  knowledge  which  are  indispensable  as 
furnishing  the  implements  by  which  all  other  knowledge  is 
to  be  acquired — beyond  orthography  and  reading  and  wri- 
ting, the  simplest  rules  of  arithmetic,  and  perhaps  some 
imperfect  outlines  of  geography — to  the  great  majority  of 
the  youth  of  this  country  destined  for  college,  nothing  at 
all  is  taught  of  any  description,  before  they  are  required 
to  devote  themselves  exclusively  to  the  study  of  the  most 
difficult  languages  ever  spoken  by  man,  and  this  by  the 
most  difficult  of  processes — the  purely  synthetic.  They 
follow  up  this  species  of  study  for  several  years.  Few 
follow  it  cheerfully,  for  few  follow  it  intelligently.  Their 
progress  is  slow.  The  average  attainment  at  the  end  of 
rhree,  four,  or  more  years  is  far  from  being  what  it  should 
be — far  from  what  it  might  be  could  they  have  entered 
upon  It  with  a  proper  preliminary  training.  Yet  we  do 
not  appreciate  the  insignificance  of  the  result,  because  the 
system  itself  has  created  a  mean  standard,  according  to 
which  our  expectations  are  justified. 

They  are  then  advanced  to  the  college.     The  same 


EARLY-    MFNTAL    TRAINING. 


327 


subjects  occupy  them  here  as  before,  with  the  addition 
mainly  of  mathematics,  logic,  and  rhetoric,  for  two  years 
longer  ;  and  then  finally,  as  they  approach  the  close  ot 
their  educational  career,  they  are  for  the  first  time  intro- 
duced to  the  sciences  of  observation  and  experiment.  That 
is  to  say,  we  have  inverted  the  natural  order  just  as  com- 
pletely as  possible,  placing  those  subjects  which  address 
themselves  to  the  faculties  earliest  awake,  at  the  very  con- 
clusion of  the  course.  And  this  inversion  of  the  order 
of  Nature,  carries  with  it  the  unfortunate  consequence  that 
no  satisfactory  knowledge  is  acquired  at  last,  either  of  the 
sciences  or  of  the  languages.  A  large  portion  of  my  own 
life  has  been  devoted  to  the  teaching  of  physics.  During 
all  this  time  it  has  been  manifest  to  me  that  my  classes 
have  come  to  this  part  of  their  course  totally  unpractised 
how  to  observe.  And  it  has  seemed  to  me  that  their  per- 
ceptive faculties  have  been  actually  dwarfed  by  the  forced 
inaction  to  which  they  have  been  constrained  during  the 
period  most  favorable  to  their  cultivation.  Thus  it  has 
happened  that  the  brief  time  which  can  only  be  given  to 
these  subjects  in  the  college  course  has  been  exhausted  in 
the  attempt  to  convey  such  elementary  notions  as  should 
have  been  familiar  long  before.  And  the  same  obser- 
vation has  been  made  to  me  by  other  gentlemen  who 
are  among  the  most  skilled  instructors  in  science  that  I 
have  ever  known.  If,  then,  I  am  asked  if  I  would  dis- 
place these  subjects  from  the  position  they  occupy  in  the 
course  of  collegiate  instruction,  I  would  answer,  by  no 
means.  What  I  would  desire  would  be  to  secure  such  an 
early  culture,  and  such  an  acquaintance  with  the  elements 
of  science,  that  it  might  be  permitted  us  to  give,  at  this 
more  advanced  period,  such  larger  views  and  such  pro- 
founder  applications  of  the  principles  of  these  sciences, 
22       o 


328  DR     BARNARD   ON 

that  the  student  might  feel,  in  the  end,  that  he  had  ac< 
quired  some  mastery  over  them,  and  might  be  qualified  to 
prosecute  inquiry  independently  and  profitably  after  he  had 
mastered  them. 

Probably  the  faults  of  our  present  system  of  liberal  ed- 
ucation result  to  a  great  degree  from  the  fact  that  our 
young  men  are  in  too  great  haste  to  be  educated.  It  does 
not  seem  to  me  that  the  system  can  be  radically  reformed 
until  our  colleges  shall  decline  to  receive  students  below 
the  age  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  years.  Some  of  them, 
perhaps  a  majority,  have  placed  their  minimum  age  at  four- 
teen. Some  of  them  have  no  provision  of  law  upon  the 
subject  at  all ;  but  all  receive  candidates  who  give  evi- 
dence of  having  read  a  certain  limited  amount  of  Latin 
and  Greek.  The  other  qualifications  required  are  exceed- 
ingly moderate  and  are  not  very  severely  insisted  on.  Nor, 
though  there  are  some  who  enter  later  in  life,  is  it  possi- 
ble to  secure  to  such  the  advantage  this  fact  should  bring 
with  it.  The  course  of  study  prescribed  must  be  the 
same  for  all,  and  must  not  be  beyond  the  capacity  of  the 
youngest.  In  the  British  universities,  the  average  age  of 
students  at  admission  is,  according  to  the  reports  of  the 
royal  commissioners,  about  eighteen  years  and  a  half. 
Were  it  the  same  with  us,  or  were  it  a  year  less,  there 
would  be  ample  time  in  the  earlier  years  for  such  a  course 
of  preliminary  training  as  to  insure,  what  we  by  no  means 
now  insure,  a  thorough  education.  But  even  without  any 
such  modification  of  our  exactions  as  to  age,  there  is  still 
room  for  a  sensible  improvement  of  the  existing  state  of 
things.  And  having  said  this,  I  shall  probably  be  ex- 
pected to  state  specifically  what  are  the  improvements 
which  I  consider  practicable. 

First,  then,  I  would  say  that  I  believe  that  boys  should 


EARLY   MENTAL  TRAINING. 


329 


not,  as  a  rule,  be  required  to  take  up  the  study  of  Latin 
before  the  age  of  fourteen  or  fifteen  years.  The  earher 
years  may  be  much  more  profitably  employed  in  other 
things  ;  and  if  so  employed,  the  study  of  the  ancient  lan- 
guages may  afterward  be  pursued  much  more  rapidly  and 
much  more  intelhgently.  It  is  a  fact  which  has  been  fre- 
quently observed,  which  every  teacher  has  probably  ob- 
served for  himself,  that  youths  who  have  even  not  had  the 
advantage  of  early  systematic  training,  but  possess  onlv 
the  greater  maturity  of  the  faculties  which  comes  with 
advancing  years,  and  who,  at  a  period  much  later  than  the 
average,  have  resolved  to  fit  themselves  for  admission  to 
college,  have  been  able  to  accomplish  all  that  is  required 
in  a  singularly  short  space  of  time,  often  within  the  com- 
pass of  a  single  year.  And  such  students,  when  of  ordi- 
nary native  ability,  have  usually  approved  themselves 
among  the  most  thorough  linguists  of  the  classes  to  which 
they  belonged.  There  is  no  doubt  that  two  years  is  as 
good  as  two  dozen  for  the  acquisition  of  all  that  our  col- 
leges require  of  preparation  in  the  classics,  provided  vio- 
lence be  not  done  to  Nature  by  forcing  the  study  upon 
minds  unprepared  to  receive  it. 

During  the  earlier  period,  now  occupied  with  weary, 
and  to  a  great  degree  profitless,  labor  over  uncongenial 
studies,  I  would  introduce,  first,  the  sciences  of  classifica- 
tion, embraced  under  the  general  name  of  Natural  His- 
tory— as  botany,  zoology,  mineralogy.  No  subjects  are 
better  suited  than  these  to  gratify  the  eager  curiosity  of 
the  growing  mind  ;  to  satisfy  its  cravings  after  positive 
knowledge  ;  to  keep  alive  the  activity  of  the  perceptive 
powers ;  to  illustrate  the  beauty  and  value  of  method,  and 
to  lead  to  the  formation  of  methodical  habits  of  thought. 
That   these   subjects  will   interest   children  of  very  early 


330 


DR.   BARNARD   ON 


years,  and  that  such  children  will  require  no  painful  con- 
straint to  secure  their  attention  to  them,  I  have  myself 
seen  experimentally  verified  ;  and  the  testimony  of  Pro- 
fessor Hooker,  before  the  royal  commissioners  appointed 
to  inquire  into  the  condition  of  the  public  schools  of  Eng- 
land, in  regard  to  the  success  of  his  distinguished  relative, 
Prof.  Henslow,  in  giving  instruction  in  the  same  subjects 
in  one  of  the  humblest  schools  of  England,  is  conclusive 
to  the  same  effect.  The  lessons  of  Professor  Henslow 
were  given  to  children  between  the  ages  of  eight  and  fif- 
teen. The  attendance  was  altogether  voluntary.  The 
children  became  deeply  interested  in  the  subject  of  bot- 
any, learned  to  analyze  and  classify  plants,  to  distinguish 
the  relations  of  the  parts  of  plants  to  each  other,  and  of 
one  plant  to  another.  The  result  was  a  very  obvious  im- 
provement in  the  powers  of  observation  and  of  reasoning, 
and  an  increase  of  general  intelligence.  These  effects 
were  so  sensibly  manifest,  that  some  of  the  inspectors  of 
the  schools  remarked  that  these  children  were  decidedly 
more  intelligent  than  those  of  other  parishes,  and  attribu- 
ted the  fact  to  the  training  which  their  observant  and  rea- 
soning powers  had  received  from  this  instruction. 

Along  with  these  sciences,  I  would  teach  those  which 
depend  on  observation  and  experiment,  embracing  chem- 
istry and  the  various  branches  of  physics.  As  in  natural 
history  we  have  classification  of  individuals  referred  to 
form,  so  here  we  have  classification  of  facts  and  phenom- 
ena referred  to  law.  These  sciences  present  the  happiest 
examples  of  reasoning  in  both  the  inductive  and  deductive 
forms.  They  lead  to  the  formation  of  habits  of  arrang- 
ing premises  and  deducing  conclusions  which  accord  most 
with  the  daily  exigencies  of  human  life,  and  thus  promote 
that  soundness  of  judgment  which  is  among  the  mosi 


EARLY   MENTAL   TRAINING. 


33' 


Jtriking  characteristics  of  practical  men.  Of  course,  it  is 
not  to  be  expected  or  desired  that,  in  the  early  period  of 
education,  these  sciences  should  be  pursued  into  their  ab- 
struser  developments.  The  deductive  part  of  physics  in- 
volves, in  many  portions,  the  application  of  the  higher 
mathematics,  and  opens  up  branches  of  inquiry  which 
must  be  left  to  be  supplied  at  a  more  advanced  period  j 
but  that  which  is  simply  inductive  addresses  itself  to  the 
senses,  and  not  only  may  be  easily  understood,  but  never 
fails  to  prove  intensely  interesting  even  to  very  young 
learners. 

So  much  as  is  here  suggested,  is  actually  required  as  a 
qualification  for  admission  to  King's  College,  London,  or 
for  matriculation  in  the  London  University.  The  emi- 
nent physiologist.  Dr.  Carpenter,  who  .*s  one  of  the  exam- 
iners for  the  London  University,  in  his  evidence  before 
the  commission  already  referred  to,  speaks  of  the  requisi- 
tion as  most  important  and  useful.  And  the  opinions  ex- 
pressed by  him  are  supported  by  the  unanimous  voice  of 
all  the  other  witnesses  of  the  same  class  who  speak  to  the 
point,  embracing  some  of  the  most  distinguished  physicists 
of  England,  and  presenting  a  weight  of  authority  entitled 
to  the  highest  respect.  Among  these  we  find  the  names 
of  Lyeil,  Hooker,  Faraday,  Owen,  Airy,  and  Ackland. 
We  have  these  names,  because  these  gentlemen  were 
summoned  before  the  commission.  But  it  is  assuming 
very  little  to  say  that  we  might  have  had  along  with  them 
hose  of  every  eminent  physicist  in  England,  had  they  all 
been  in  like  manner  called  upon  for  their  evidence. 

The  adaptedness  of  this  class  of  subjects  to  the  ments* 
wants  of  boys  in  the  earlier  period  of  their  education,  and 
'ts  fitness,  therefore,  to  fasten  their  attention  and  keep 
ilive  their  mental  activity,  is  manifested  in  the  earnest  in« 


«2 


DR.    BARNARD   ON 


terest  they  display  in  any  description  of  phys/cai  or  chein 
ical  experiments,  and  in  the  eagerness  with  which  they 
will  endeavor  to  imitate  such  and  contrive  new  ones.  I> 
is  manifest  in  the  curiosity  they  exhibit  to  witness  the  ac- 
tion and  to  understand  the  rationale  of  every  new  machine 
which  falls  in  their  way,  and  in  the  efforts  to  invent  or  to 
construct  for  themselves,  which  form  a  part  of  the  early 
history  of  almost  every  youth.  It  is  interesting  to  any 
one  to  be  introduced  at  any  time  of  life  into  a  great  cot- 
ton-mill or  foundery,  or  manufactory  of  any  description 
which  he  has  never  seen  before,  but  to  a  young  lad,  whose 
observant  powers  are  in  the  morning  of  their  development, 
and  who  possesses  the  lively  impressibility  belonging  to 
that  early  age,  such  a  visit  is  a  source  of  delight  beyond 
all  measure,  and  it  is  often  found  almost  impossible  to  tear 
him  away  from  objects  which  so  fill  him  with  admiration 
and  gratify  his  desire  to  know. 

If  it  were  proper  here  to  refer  to  matters  of  personal 
history,  in  illustration  of  what  I  have  asserted  of  the  fit- 
ness of  the  sciences  of  Nature  to  occupy  the  place  of  pre- 
\;edence  in  an  educational  system  founded  upon  that  sound 
philosophy  which  consults  first  the  demands  of  Nature,  I 
would  say  that  the  point  of  my  own  life  to  which,  at  a 
distance  of  more  than  forty  years,  I  look  back  as  that  in 
which  my  education  truly  began,  was  that  at  which,  while 
engaged  in  the  irksome  study  of  the  dead  languages,  which 
for  the  seven  years  preceding  my  admission  to  college, 
crushed  me  down  like  an  incubus,  I  had  an  opportunity  to 
attend  a  course  of  lectures  on  chemistry,  magnetism,  and 
electricity  by  an  itinerant  lecturer.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
a  new  world  had  suddenly  been  revealed  to  me.  From 
that  time  forward  I  could  think  of  nothing  else.  It  was 
my  constant  amusement,  with  such  rude   materials  as  I 


EARLY   MENTAL   TRAINING.  333 

could  gather,  to  repeat  the  experiments  which  I  had  seen, 
and  to  endeavor  to  devise  new  ones.  Cut  off  from  books 
of  my  own  on  those  subjects,  I  improved  my  time  during 
the  holidays  which  permitted  me  to  visit  home,  in  devour- 
ing the  text-books  of  a  sister,  who,  being  superior  to  me 
in  age,  was  pursuing  in  her  own  school,  subjects  which, 
according  to  the  received  theory,  are  more  advanced  than 
those  then  allowed  to  me — that  is  to  say,  the  dead  lan- 
guages. In  assuming,  therefore,  that  those  subjects  are 
the  subjects  best  suited  to  early  mental  culture,  I  do  not 
merely  put  forth  opinions  founded  on  considerations  a 
priori^  I  speak  with  the  conviction  which  results  from  ac- 
ual  experience. 

But  these  subjects  are  recommended  not  only  on  educa 
tional  grounds,  but  because  they  embody  in  themselves  a 
vast  amount  of  substantial  knowledge,  such  as  cannot  fail 
to  be  of  the  highest  practical  usefulness  in  lire.  They 
relate  to  the  real  and  material  world  by  which  man  is  sur- 
rounded, and  in  the  midst  of  which  he  lives.  Whatever 
may  be  the  value  of  the  study  of  the  classics  in  a  sub- 
jective point  of  view,  nothing  could  possibly  more  thor- 
oughly unfit  a  man  for  any  immediate  usefulness  in  this 
matter-of-fact  world,  or  make  him  more  completely  a 
stranger  in  his  own  home,  than  the  purely  classical  educa- 
tion which  used  recently  to  be  given,  and  which  with 
some  slight  improvement  is  believed  to  be  still  given,  by 
the  universities  of  England.  This  proposition  is  very  hap- 
pily enforced  by  a  British  writer,  whose  strictures  on  the 
system  appeared  in  the  London  Tunes  some  twelve  or  thir 
teen  years  ago  : 

*'  Common  things  are  quite  as  much  neglected  and  de- 
spised in  the  education  of  the  rich  as  in  that  of  the  poor. 
\  is  wonderful   how  little  a  young  gentleman  may  know 


334 


DR.   BARNARD   ON 


iKrhen  he  has  taken  his  university  degrees,  especially  if  hi 
has  been  industrious^  and  has  stuck  to  his  studies.  He  may 
really  spend  a  long  time  in  looking  for  somebody  more  ig- 
norant than  himself.  If  he  talks  with  ihe  driver  of  the 
stage-coach,  that  lands  him  at  his  father's  door,  he  finds 
he  knows  nothing  of  horses.  If  he  falls  into  conversation 
with  a  gardener,  he  knows  nothing  of  plants  or  flowers. 
If  he  walks  into  the  fields,  he  does  not  know  the  differ 
ence  between  barley,  rye,  and  wheat ;  between  rape  and 
turnips  ;  between  lucerne  and  saintfoin  ;  between  natural 
and  artificial  grass.  If  he  goes  into  a  carpenter's  yard,  he 
does  not  know  one  wood  from  another.  If  he  comes 
across  an  attorney,  he  has  no  idea  of  the  difference  be- 
tween common  and  statute  law,  and  is  wholly  in  the  dark 
as  to  those  securities  of  personal  and  political  liberty  on 
which  we  pride  ourselves,  if  he  talks  with  a  county 
magistrate,  he  finds  his  only  idea  of  the  office  is,  that  the 
gentleman  is  a  sort  of  English  sheik,  as  the  mayor  of  the 
neighboring  borough  is  a  sort  of  cadi.  If  he  strolls  into 
any  workshop,  or  place  of  maiiutacture,  it  is  always  to 
find  his  level,  and  that  a  level  far  below  the  present  com- 
pany. If  he  dines  out,  and  as  a  youth  of  proved  talents, 
and  perhaps  university  honors,  is  expected  to  be  literary, 
his  literature  is  confined  to  a  few  popular  novels — ^the  nov- 
els of  the  last  century,  or  even  of  the  last  generation,  his- 
tory, and  poetry,  having  been  almost  studiously  omitted  in 
his  education.  The  girl  who  has  never  stirred  from  home, 
and  whose  education  has  been  economized,  not  to  say  neg- 
lected, in  order  to  send  her  own  brother  to  college,  knows 
vastly  more  of  those  things  than  he  does.  The  same  ex- 
posure awaits  him  wherever  he  goes,  and  whenever  he  has 
the  audacity  to  open  his  mouth.  Ji  sea  he  is  a  landlubber^ 
in  the  country  a  cockney^  in  town  a  greenhorn,  in  science  an 
ignoramus,  in  business  a  simpleton,  in  pleasure  a  milksop — 
everywhere  out  of  his  element,  everywhere  at  sea,  in  the 
clouds,  adrift,  or  by  whatever  word  utter  ignorance  and 
incapacity  are  to  be  described.  In  society  and  in  the  work 
of  life,  he  finds  himself  beaten  by  the  youth  whom  at  col- 
Ir);e  he  despised  as  frivolous  or  abhoired  as  profligate.    He 


EARLY    MENTAL   TRAINING.  335 

is  ordained,  and  takes  charge  of  a  parish,  only  to  be 
laughed  at  by  the  farmers,  the  tradespeople,  and  even  the 
old  women,  for  he  can  hardly  talk  of  religion  without  be- 
traying a  want  of  common  sense." 

I  know  that  with  a  pretty  large  class  of  educational  phl- 
•osophers,  when  methods  of  education  are  under  discussion, 
the  word  usefulness  has  long  been  tabooed.  I  know  that 
with  such,  to  speak  of  a  subject  of  study  as  likely  to  be 
productive  of  direct  and  practical  and  tangible  benefit  to 
the  learner  in  the  real  business  of  life,  is  to  bring  that  sub- 
ject immediately  under  suspicion,  if  not  to  insure  its  sum- 
mary condemnation  without  any  examination  of  its  claims. 
I  cannot  but  hold,  on  the  contrary,  that  if  we  can  find 
any  subject  which,  while  it  is  capable  of  affording  the 
most  salutary  intellectual  exercise,  is  also  certain  to  enrich 
the  student  with  a  store  of  knowledge  of  that  very  kind 
of  which  he  is  going  to  feel  the  need  every  day  of  his  life, 
then  this  subject  should  have  a  place  in  our  educational 
schemes  in  preference  to  any  which  can  only  claim  the 
first  of  these  advantages  without  possessing  the  second  at 
all. 

The  kind  of  lofty  contempt  or  aversion  to  subjects  rec- 
ommended for  their  practical  utility,  which  is  manifested 
by  the  class  of  educators  to  which  I  have  referred,  ap- 
pears to  be  founded  upon  an  assumption  which  has  been 
so  long  taken  for  granted,  that  for  them  it  has  passed  into 
a  kind  of  axiom,  and  that  is,  that  a  subject  of  knowledge 
which  is  adapted  to  educational  uses  cannot  be,  or  at  least 
is  extremely  unlikely  to  be,  of  any  other  direct  use  in  tne 
world  ;  and  conversely,  that  a  subject  which  is  self-evi- 
dently  practically  useful  can  by  no  possibility  have  any 
educational  use  whatever.  According  to  them,  therefore, 
as  it  has  been  very  well  remarked  before.  Nature  seems  in 


13^ 


DR.   BARNARD   ON 


respect  to  this  particular  matter  to  have  deviated  from  tha( 
rule  of  severe  economy  which  distinguishes  her  every- 
where else,  and  to  have  ordained  a  necessity  for  two  set? 
of  machinery  where  one  might  have  sufficed^-ordaine  J, 
that  is,  that  the  mind  shall  require  one  class  of  studies  for 
subjective  culture,  and  another  class  for  its  furniture — one 
class  to  make  it  fit  for  work,  and  another  class  to  provide 
for  it  material  to  work  upon.  TSe  fallacy  of  this  doc- 
trine has  been  so  well  exposed  by  abler  hands — notably 
by  Dr.  Hodgson,  of  England,  and  by  Mr.  Atkinson  in 
our  own  country — that  I  will  not  dwell  upon  it  here.  I 
mention  it  only  for  the  purpose  of  entering  my  protest 
against  any  disparagement  of  the  studies  which  I  would 
recommend  as  preparatory  to  college,  to  be  deduced  from 
the  consideration  that  they  have  upon  them  the  taint  of 
possible  usefulness. 

I  have  dwelt  somewhat  at  length  upon  the  subjects  of 
study  which  have  occupied  us  thus  far,  because  of  their 
pre-eminent  importance  and  their  adaptation  to  a  special 
culture  now  wholly  neglected,  and  not  because  I  consider 
them,  in  themselves,  sufficient  in  the  business  of  prepara- 
tion for  college.  There  is  no  period  in  a  course  of  edu- 
cation in  which  it  is  not  important  to  vary  the  labor,  and 
to  relieve  the  tension  upon  one  class  of  faculties  by  call- 
ing another  into  action.  There  are  certain  subjects  which 
are  now  professedly  required,  although  seldom  made  sub- 
jects of  any  searching  examination — hardly,  perhaps,  ex- 
amined upon  at  all — but  of  which,  in  the  language  of  one 
of  the  resolutions  of  Convocation  adopted  at  the  last  an- 
nual meeting,  the  knowledge  is  rather  "  presupposed." 
Among  these  are  "  arithmetic,  English  grammar,  descrip- 
tive geography,  and  the  history  of  the  United  States."  To 
presuppose  a  knowledge  of  these  things,  without  employ* 


EARLY   MENTAL   TRAINING. 


337 


Ing  pretty  thorough  measures  to  ascertain  that  the  pre- 
sumption is  justified,  impHes  a  tolerably  strong  exercise  of 
faith,  and  requires  that,  Hke  the  marchioness  in  the  "  Cu- 
riosity Shop,"  one  should  "  make  believe  a  great  deal." 
The  experience  of  every  college  officer  will,  I  think,  bear 
me  out  in  the  assertion  that,  notwithstanding  the  length  of 
time  spent  by  most  lads  in  preparatory  study,  there  is  al- 
ways a  large  proportion  who  struggle  to  secure  admission 
into  college  on  the  very  minimum  of  attainment  allowa- 
ble ;  so  that,  when  they  know  so  little  of  the  subjects  on 
which  they  are  sure  of  being  examined,  it  is  not  quite  safe 
to  "  presuppose  "  that  they  will  know  any  thing  at  all  of 
those  on  which  they  hope  to  escape  examination.  These 
subjects  I  would  still  insist  on,  and  would  insist  also  that 
we  should  adopt  effectual  means  of  insuring  that  they  re- 
ceive proper  attention.  And  to  these  I  would  add  plane 
geometry,  so  much  of  algebra  as  includes  equations  of  the 
second  degree,  and  finally  the  French  and  German  lan- 
guages. Time  admonishes  me  not  to  attempt  here  the 
discussion  of  the  propriety  of  all  these  suggestions.  I 
will  limit  myself  to  assigning  briefly  my  reasons  for  the 
last. 

And  here  I  would  observe  that  the  popular  idea  which 
limits  the  educational  growth  of  the  man  to  the  period  of 
scholastic  discipline,  is  one  which  will  not  be  entertained 
by  any  member  of  this  Convocation.  What  the  school 
and  the  college  accomplish  for  the  individual  who  enjoys 
their  advantages,  is  to  fit  him  to  take  his  education  ,nto 
his  own  hands.  No  man  who  remains  stationary  at  the 
point  where  the  college  leaves  him  can  ever  be  distin- 
guished in  any  vocation,  or  prove  a  successful  laborer  in 
any  part  of  the  intellectual  field.  When  in  the  view  of 
the  world    the   education   of  the  youth   is   completed,  we 


338 


DR.    BARNARD   ON 


must  regard  it,  in  its  highest  and  most  appropriate  sense, 
as  only  just  begun.  In  order,  therefore,  that  it  may  pro- 
ceed successfully,  the  student  must  be  in  possession  of 
certain  instrumentalities,  which  he  will  henceforth  find 
indispensable  to  every  effective  step  of  progress.  And 
among  these  instrumentalities,  none  is  more  essentially 
important  than  a  knowledge  of  those  languages  in  which, 
along  with  his  own,  is  embodied  the  richest  literature  of 
modern  times  upon  all  subjects  of  interest  to  man.  As  the 
commonest  education  exacts,  as  a  condition  antecedent,  the 
power  to  read  at  least  one  language,  so  the  highest  de- 
mands a  similar  power  for  more  than  one ;  and  the  student 
whose  tastes,  or  whose  ambition,  or  whose  sense  of  duty 
impels  him  to  aim  unceasingly  at  progress,  should  he  have 
neglected  the  study  of  the  modern  languages  till  the  close 
of  his  collegiate  career,  will  find  himself  arrested  or  se- 
riously embarrassed,  at  the  very  outset  of  his  independent 
labors,  by  the  impossibility  of  consulting  authorities,  or  of 
keeping  himself  advised  of  the  simultaneous  labors  of  oth- 
ers. Neglects,  I  say,  to  the  close  of  his  collegiate  career^ 
for  if  he  neglects  these  subjects  before  he  becomes  a  mem- 
ber of  college,  that  is  what  he  is  practically  pretty  sure  to 
do  ;  since  there  is  no  college  known  to  me  in  which  the 
modern  languages  form,  much  more  than  in  name,  a  part 
of  the  regular  teaching.  It  should  not  be  forgotten  that 
the  knowledge  of  French  and  Gernian  which  the  scholar 
or  the  scientific  man  of  this  da)  needs,  is  not  such  a 
knowledge  as  that  which  our  graduates  usually  possess  of 
I/atin  and  Greek — a  knowledge,  that  is  to  say,  which  docs 
not  permit  them  to  read  those  languages  with  fluency — a 
fluency  something  like  that  with  which  they  read  their 
mother  tongue.  It  must  be  a  real  knowledge,  such  a 
knowledge  as  frees  them  cfFectuallv  from  slavery  to  gram- 


EARLY   MENTAL   TRAINING. 


339 


mars  and  lexicons.  Surely  the  acquisition  of  such  a 
knowledge,  which  to  the  man  who  is  to  be  really  educated 
is  abso'-utely  a  sine  qua  non^  may  much  better  be  com- 
menced in  early  Hfe,  when  the  other  implements  essential 
to  mental  progress  are  acquired,  than  deferred  to  the  pe- 
riod to  which,  unfortunately,  so  many  defer  it,  when  it 
forms  an  obstruction  to  mental  progress  in  mid  career— 
an  obstruction  which  must  be  removed  with  much  annoy- 
ing and  impatient  labor  before  the  student  is  ready  to  make 
a  single  further  step  of  advance. 

But  it  may  be  inquired,  if  foreign  languages  are  to  be 
made  part  of  the  early  discipline,  what  becomes  of  the 
objection  to  Latin  and  Greek,  as  unsuited  to  the  powers 
of  the  juvenile  learner  ?  The  reply  is  twofold — first, 
these  languages  by  no  means  present  the  difficulties  to  the 
learner  which  are  characteristic  of  Latin  and  Greek. 
They  are  less  complicated  in  structure,  and,  at  least  in  the 
case  of  the  French,  far  less  different  in  their  usages  from 
our  own.  But  secondly  and  chiefly,  the  objection  to  the 
Latin  and  Greek  is  to  be  found  quite  as  much  in  the  ste- 
reotyped modes  of  presenting  them — modes  which  it  is 
probably  vain  to  expect  to  alter,  and  which  need  not  be 
altered,  if  we  defer  the  teaching  to  a  period  a  little  later — 
as  to  the  nature  of  the  languages  themselves.  The  modes 
of  teaching  which  I  believe  are  universally  prevalent,  are 
after  the  severest  fashion  synthetic.  They  are  as  totally 
unsuited  to  the  state  of  mental  development  of  the  juve-' 
nile  learner  as  they  could  by .  any  possibility  be  made. 
And  this  fact,  apart  from  the  difficulties  inherent  in  the 
languages  themselves,  is,  in  my  mind,  quite  decisive  of  the 
qiestion. 

The  prevalent  modes  of  teaching  the  modern  languages 
arc  not  synthetic,  or  are  so  to  a  much  less  degree.     Those 


m^Q  DR.   BARNARD   ON 

employed  with  young  learners  ought  not  to  be  so,  and 
certainly  need  not  be. 

To  this  it  may  be  added,  that  if  there  were  no  differ- 
ence between  the  two  classes  of  languages  in  the  respects 
which  have  just  been  indicated,  and  were  the  modern  lan- 
guages in  this  part  of  the  course  just  as  objectionable  in 
their  subjective  relations  as  the  ancient,  there  is  this,  at 
least,  to  be  said  in  favor  of  the  former,  which  is  not  at  all 
true  of  the  others,  that  they  will  probably  be  really  mas- 
tered before  they  are  done  with,  and  will  certainly  be  of 
some  practical  use  after  they  are  mastered. 

If  up  to  the  age  of  fourteen,  fifteen,  or  sixteen  years — 
preferably  the  last — a  lad  shall  have  been  subjected  to  the 
training  indicated  in  the  foregoing  remarks,  he  will  then 
be  in  condition  to  take  up,  profitably,  along  with  the  stud- 
ies above  enumerated,  the  Latin,  and  somewhat  later,  the 
Greek  language.  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  it  might  not  be 
well  to  drop  from  the  preparatory  course  the  Greek  alto- 
gether, and  to  leave  that  study  wholly  to  the  college.  That 
is  a  question  at  which  I  will  merely  hint  without  discuss- 
ing it.  In  such  a  case,  the  omission  would  be  with  a  view 
to  make  the  preparation  in  Latin  more  thorough.  And 
considering  the  great  help  which  may  be  derived,  in  the 
study  of  this  language,  from  the  knowledge  of  the  lan- 
guages (especially  of  the  French)  already  acquired,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  a  single  additional  year  of  study 
would  result  in  a  more  satisfactory  preparation  for  college 
than  is  now  obtained  in  three,  or  four,  or  five.  Thus 
there  could  be  secured,  along  with  a  vast  and  valuable  fund 
of  real  knowledge,  an  immense  economy  of  time. 

Furthermore,  I  cannot  but  be  convinced  that  such  a 
preparatory  training  would  render  the  collegiate  course 
greatly  more  profitable  than  it  is  at  present  ;  and  still  fur* 


EARLY  MENTAL   TRAINING. 


341 


ther,  that  classical  scholarship  itself,  whose  peculiar  friends 
and  champions  may  be  disposed  to  see  in  all  that  has  been 
said,  nothing  but  a  tissue  of  dangerous  heresies,  would  be 
improved  to  that  extent  that  it  might  become  no  very  un- 
common thing  among  us  to  find  a  graduate  who  should 
really  be  able  to  read  Latin  and  Greek. 

In  conclusion,  I  have  to  advert  to  one  serious  fact  which 
is  always  a  subject  of  discouragement  to  me  when  I  think 
of  the  possibility  of  a  reform  of  the  higher  education  in 
our  country.  It  is  this.  There  are  between  two  hundred 
and  two  hundred  and  fifty  institutions  in  the  United  States 
which  are  chartered  as  colleges.  Any  movement  which 
any  one  of  these,  or  any  limited  number  of  these  may 
make,  in  the  direction  of  larger  exactions  as  qualifications 
for  admission,  is  likely  to  result,  not  in  the  hoped-for  im- 
provement of  the  system,  but  in  driving  students  from 
their  own  doors  to  those  of  their  more  accommodating 
neighbors.  The  colleges  of  New  York,  bound  together 
in  a  kind  of  federal  league,  with  the  advantage  of  a  com- 
mon supervisory  board,  might  act  unitedly ;  and  if  New 
York  were  isolated  in  the  world — cut  off  by  an  ocean 
from  other  States,  or  severed  by  difference  of  language 
and  political  institutions  from  the  peoples  on  its  borders—^ 
they  might  act  with  effect.  As  we  are  actually  situated, 
it  would  be  no  very  difficult  thing  to  improve  our  system 
of  education  at  the  expense  of  our  existence. 

It  is  unfortunately  true  of  a  very  large  proportion  of  our 
young  men  that  they  desire  not  so  much  an  education  ay 
the  name  of  being  educated.  All  these,  where  other 
things  are  equal,  will  naturally  prefer  those  institution? 
which  will  furnish  them  the  coveted  certificate  on  the 
easiest  terms.  Nothing;  short  of  an  effort  in  which  all  of 
the   leading  colleges  of  the  country  should   act   simulta 


S42 


DR.   BARNARD   ON 


neously  and  in  concert,  could  probably  avail  to  change 
materially  the  system  which  at  present  exists.  Whether 
it  is  owing  to  the  faults  of  this  system,  or  to  some  deeper 
lying  cause,  it  is  a  fact  which  cannot  be  controverted,  that 
our  colleges  are  gradually  losing  ground  in  the  public  esti- 
mation. Though  the  creation  of  new  ones  is  an  every- 
day occurrence,  the  ratio  to  the  entire  population  of  the 
aggregate  annual  number  of  their  graduates  is  steadily, 
though  slowly,  diminishing.  In  England,  also,  a  similar 
change  seems  to  be  simultaneously  going  on.  Conclusive 
proof  of  this  is  presented  by  Mr.  Atkinson,  in  his  able 
address  before  the  Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology ; 
and  among  his  citations  is  the  remarkable  testimony  of 
Lord  Lyndhurst,  who  expressed  in  Parliament,  in  1855, 
the  opinion  that  the  universities  had  evidently  a  far  weaker 
hold  upon  the  public  feeling  of  the  country  than  they  had 
possessed  at  no  very  distant  previous  period.  '*  When  I 
first  entered  public  life,"  said  he,  "  I  found  in  the  other 
House  of  Parliament  that  a  majority  of  the  members  of 
that  assembly  had  been  educated  at  one  or  the  other  of  the 
universities.  Now,  however,  as  I  understand,  not  more 
than  one-sixth,  or,  at  most,  one-fifth  of  the  representatives 
of  the  people  have  been  educated  at  either  of  those  great 
institutions." 

I  cannot  but  regard  these  results  as  owing,  in  some  de- 
gree, to  the  faults  of  the  preparatory  system  in  both  coun- 
tries ;  faults  which  the  subsequent  teaching  in  the  colleges 
does  not  and  cannot  correct,  and  which  entail  educational 
deficiencies— deficiencies  of  practical  knowledge  on  sub- 
jects held  in  the  highest  esteem  by  the  public — upon  all 
their  graduates. 

If  we  take  up  the  reports  of  the  regents  of  the  univer- 
sity of  this  State,  we  shall  see  that  in  every  academy  un- 


EARLY   MENTAL   TRAINING. 


343 


der  their  control,  without  exception  I  believe,  instruction 
is  given  on  all  those  subjects  which  I  have  named  as 
proper  to  be  placed  upon  the  list  of  preparatory  studies. 
These  subjects  are  not  taught  to  those  who  are  in  process 
of  preparation  for  college  in  those  schools.  They  are  un- 
doubtedly taught  to  others  no  more  advanced  in  age  than 
they.  When  the  public  see  these  things,  how  is  it  possi- 
ble that  they  should  fail  occasionally  to  draw  unfavorable 
comparisons  ?  How  is  it  possible  that  they  should  not 
sometimes  imagine  that  perhaps  the  education  which  a 
youth  may  acquire  in  the  academy  may  better  fit  him  for 
success  in  life,  than  all  that  can  be  done  for  him  by  a  sys- 
tem which  carries  him  professedly  a  great  deal  higher,  yet 
lays  its  first  foundation  in  a  manner  of  which  common 
sense  fails  to  discover  the  wisdom  ? 

Permit  me,  finally,  to  remark  that  I  have  not  submitted 
these  observations  with  any  expectation  that  they  will  af- 
fect the  action  of  this  Convocation.  If  the  views  which 
I  have  expressed  have  any  foundation  in  reason,  I  am 
aware  that  they  too  widely  differ  from  those  which  are 
generally  entertained,  to  justify  me  in  anticipating  that 
they  will  be  immediately  approved.  If  they  serve  to 
awaken  attention  to  the  subject,  and  lead  to  its  more  de- 
liberate examination,  all  the  end  which  I  have  proposed  to 
myself  in  presenting  them  will  have  been  answered. 


23 


THE   DEVELOPMENT   OF   IDEAS   IN 
PHYSICAL  SCIENCE. 


AN   ADDRESS   DELIVERED   BEFORE   THE   ROYAL  ACADEMY 
OF  SCIENCES,  IN   MUNICH,  25TH  JULY,  1866. 


JUSTUS   VON    LIEBIG. 


ON    THE 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   SCIENTIFIC    IDEAS 


The  history  of  physical  science  teaches  us  that  our 
knowledge  of  things  and  of  natural  phenomena  has,  for 
its  starting-point,  the  material  and  intellectual  wants  of 
man,  and  is  conditioned  by  both.  Nature  has  denied  to 
man  the  means  of  withstanding  injuries  from  without, 
which  constantly  imperil  his  existence ;  and  it  is,  first  of 
all,  the  pressure  of  the  external  world  upon  him,  which 
arouses  his  dormant  intellectual  energies  to  resist  it.  All 
that  he  needs  for  shelter  against  the  weather  and  against 
his  enemies,  for  subsistence,  and  for  the  restoring  of  his 
health,  he  wins  from  nature;  whence  results  an  acquaint- 
ance with  innumerable  objects  and  their  properties,  and 
with  the  events  which  make  them  suitable  for  his  ends. 

In  a  former  discourse  I  had  occasion  to  speak  of  the 
peculiar  power  of  the  imagination,  of  bringing  the  images 
awakened  in  it  by  sensual  impressions  into  mutual  relation, 
and  thence  of  framing  conclusions  standing  in  a  depend- 
ence on  each  other,  similar  to  that  of  the  conceptions 
which  lead  the  intellect  in  its  combinations ;  with  this  dif- 
ference, however,  that  the  conclusions  of  the  imaginative 
faculty  are  themselves  images.  What,  for  the  intellect,  a 
word  is,  as  mark  of  a  conception,  that  for  the  phantasy  is 


248  PROFESSOR   LIEBIG   ON  THE 

an  impression  of  sense.  The  word  "tar"  might  produce 
no  effect  at  all  on  the  imagination  of  most  men,  whereas 
the  smell  of  tar  might  perchance  awaken,  in  the  fancy  of 
an  individual,  the  image  of  a  ship  or  harbor  which  he  had 
visited  years  befoie. 

The  husbandman,  heidsman,  hunter,  live  in  immediate 
intercourse  with  nature :  the  first  learns,  through  mere 
sensual  perception,  how  sunshine  and  rain  affect  the  growth 
of  his  vegetables,  how  the  seed  germinates  and  is  devel- 
oped into  a  plant,  how  the  plant  blossom^  and  bears  fruit ; 
so,  too,  the  herdsman  gathers  a  mass  of  experiences  con- 
cerning the  nutrition  and  propagation  of  the  animals  he 
guards,  he  becomes  acquainted  with  their  diseases,  thence 
with  nutritive  and  poisonous  plants ;  he  forms  for  himself 
a  clock  in  the  starry  sky,  and  learns  the  course  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  and  how  they  change  with  the  seasons. 
The  priest,  who  dissects  the  victim,  comes  to  know  its  in- 
ternal parts  and  their  connection.  A  multitude  of  such 
facts  enables  the  observers  of  them  to  draw  inferences  as 
to  the  existence  of  others.  The  shepherd  seeks  medicinal 
herbs  for  his  animals,  and  afterward  applies  them  to  men. 
From  the  changes  caused  by  disease  in  the  organs  of 
beasts,  the  sacrificing  priest  forms  judgments  as  to  the  na- 
ture of  human  maladies.  Thus  the  shepherd  becomes  the 
earliest  therapeutist,  the  priest  the  first  pathologist.  The 
methods  of  preparing  leather,  soap,  glass,  wine,  oil,  bread, 
cheese,  were  devised  through  conclusions  of  a  like  kind  ; 
ihcy  were  primitive  ;  even  so  the  converting  of  wool  and 
vegetable  fibres  into  textures,  the  process  of  dyeing,  that 
of  extracting  many  metals,  as  copper,  tin,  iron,  silver,  and 
gold,  from  their  ores. 

Man's  superiority  to  tne  beast  depends  essentially  on  his 
faculty  of  dev  sing  inventions  for  the  gratification  of  his 


DEVELOPMENT    OF   SCIENTIFIC   IDEAS. 


349 


wants,  and  it  is  the  sum  of  them  amongst  a  people  which 
embraces  the  conception  of  their  ''  civiUzation."  Through 
mventions  in  the  industrial  arts,  in  medicine,  mechanics, 
astronomy,  facts  are  acquired  indispensable  to  the  subse- 
quent development  of  science :  they  lead  to  an  acquaint- 
ance with  the  phenomena  of  motion  in  the  heavens  and 
on  the  earth's  surface,  with  the  component  parts  of  ter- 
restrial bodies,  animals,  and  plants  ;  to  the  discovery  of  the 
effects  of  fire  and  of  natural  forces :  but  the  experimental 
procedure,  which  conducts  to  inventions,  seeks  no  explica- 
tions of  the  nature  and  essence  of  things  and  phenomena, 
for  this  lies  wholly  beside  its  aim. 

The  scientific  knowledge  of  nature  has  a  different  prob- 
lem ;  it  springs  out  of  man's  intellectual  wants,  out  of  an 
impulse  of  his  soul  to  interpret  the  world  wherein  he  lives, 
and  the  objects  and  appearances  which  daily  engross  his 
senses.  But,  in  the  beginning  of  his  inquiry,  he  knows 
nothing  of  the  nature  of  his  senses,  nor  that  the  ground 
of  things  is  inaccessible  to  them ;  those  senses,  which  are 
*o  help  him  understand  the  outward  world,  are,  for  him, 
instruments  with  the  handling  of  which  he  is  unacquainted ; 
he  sees  and  hears,  yet  knows  nothing  of  light  or  sound, 
knows  not  whether  he  sees  in  his  eves  or  out  of  them,  nor 
that  the  temperature  he  feels  is  his  own. 

History  informs  us  that  mankind's  representations  of  out- 
ward objects  have  been  developed  in  like  manner  as  with  the 
child,  which  learns  to  cognize  the  indications  of  its  senses 
only  by  degrees.  Through  repeated  examination  of  objects 
with  hand,  eye,  tongue,  the  child  comes  to  ascertain  their 
figure,  color,  and  quality,  and  to  distinguish  the  tangible, 
resisting  solid  from  the  fluid,  cold  from  warm,  dry  from 
moist ;  and  his  further  development  depends  essentially  on 
his  power  of  reproducing  to  himself  his  perceptions,  with- 


1^0  PROFESSOR   LIEBIG   ON  THE 

out  further  aid  from  sense.  Gradually  the  remembered 
images  accumulate,  and  the  intellect  begins,  unconsciously, 
to  ask  questions  of  the  senses ;  it  compares,  and  discovers 
resemblances  and  differences ;  learns  that  the  cold  object 
sometimes  becomes  warm  ;  the  fluid,  solid  ;  the  solid,  fluid. 
It  is  long,  however,  before  man  marks  the  peculiar  and 
essential  in  each  thing ;  his  conception  of  motion  is  con- 
nected with  that  of  a  hand,  which  lifts,  draws,  or  pushes  a 
body. 

With  notions  of  this  sort  the  investigation  of  nature 
began,  and  its  subsequent  development  proceeded  as  in  an 
individual,  only  that  the  senses  and  intellect  of  many  were 
concerned  in  it ;  each,  in  his  contact  with  objects  and  his 
contemplation  of  events,  assumes  a  standing-point  of  his 
own,  each  sees  a  different  face  and  profile  in  the  thing  or 
the  phenomenon,  which  is  thus  gradually  studied  on  all  its 
sides ',  subsequently,  when  the  individualities  become  bet- 
ter defined,  it  is  found  that  many  phenomena  are  composed 
of  parts,  and  that  things  co-operate  which  elude  ordinary 
perception  ;  the  earlier  confidence  in  the  indications  of 
sense  is  lost,  and  tests  for  their  examination  are  sought. 

Thus  are  gradually  formed  determinate  conceptions  of 
things  and  events,  conceptions  serviceable  in  intellectual 
operations  ;  with  the  increase  of  them,  the  number  of  their 
combinations  is  of  course  augmented,  as  also  the  command 
of  the  intellect  over  the  senses ;  instead  of  questions 
merely  spontaneous,  it  now  frames  them  with  definite  pur- 
pose, and  instead  of  single  questions,  a  multitude.  The 
perceptions  thus  become  conscious  observations. 

Nobody  will  affirm  that  in  the  senses  of  men  there  lay 
«n  obstacle,  in  earlier  times,  to  perceiving  things  as  we 
now  perceive  them.  Nor  again,  is  the  difference  between 
our  perceptions  and  earlier  ones,  as  to  many  phenomena. 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   SCIENTIFIC  IDEAS.  051 

due  to  the  want  of  facts  in  those  times.  True,  we  know 
more  facts  than  formerly ;  nevertheless,  those  relative  to 
the  most  frequently  recurring  phenomena,  e.  g.,  to  air  and 
fire,  evaporation  and  freezing,  rain  and  vapor,  heat  and 
cold,  were  as  well  known  a  thousand  years  ago  as  now ; 
and  nobody  will  believe  that  before  the  discovery  of  oxy- 
gen, people  had  any  doubt  about  the  necessity  of  air  in 
combustion  and  respiration,  or  that  of  a  strong  draught  to 
the  production  of  greater  heat. 

Our  superior  intelligence  rests  not  on  our  senses,  nor  on 
our  larger  intellectual  faculties ;  for,  as  to  the  latter,  the 
great  philosophers  of  antiquity,  who  occupied  themselves 
in  seeking  explications  of  the  nature  of  things  and  of  phe- 
nomena, stand  to  this  day  unsurpassed.  The  real  ground 
is,  that  we  are  become  richer  in  conceptions.  But  man  is 
not  born  with  notions  of  things  ;  that  is,  he  is  not  born  ac- 
quainted with  sensible  objects,  their  properties  and  effects  ; 
those  notions  must  be  gained  by  experience,  and  become 
developed  in  his  mind  ;  far  otherwise  than  with  the  animal, 
whose  faculties  expand  to  their  attainable  perfection,  with- 
out his  own  effort,  by  means  of  natural  laws  acting  in 
him. 

All  these  conceptions  have  sprung  or  been  derived  from 
sensible  marks,  and  as  natural  phenomena  are  always  com- 
posite, and  their  conditions  or  parts  are  likewise  things 
having  determinable  and  invariable  marks,  it  is  clear  that 
the  conception  of  an  object  or  phenomenon  must  involve 
all  these  marks.  We  speak  of  carbon  as  an  element  of 
plants  or  of  the  animal  body,  without,  however,  thinking 
under  that  name,  of  diamond,  charcoal,  sea-coal  or  lamp- 
alack  ;  similarly,  of  phosphorus  and  iodine,  which  do  not 
occur  at  all  in  nature  as  such.  These  are  simply  abstract 
conceptions,  which,  once  fixed,  excite,  in  all  cases  where 


Ijj  PROFESSOR   LIEBIG   ON  THE  • 

their  marks  are  perceived,  the  idea  of  carbon,  phosphorus, 
iodine. 

Since,  now,  natural  phenomena  are  interconnected  like 
the  knots  of  a  net,  the  investigation  of  particular  phe- 
nomena evinces  that  they  have  certain  conditions  (which, 
as  remarked,  are  active  things)  in  common ;  and,  as  the 
whole  number  of  the  conditions  or  parts  of  all  natural 
phenomena  is  limited  and  proportionally  small,  all  these 
phenomena  must  come  at  last  to  be  resolved  into  concep- 
tions. This  is  the  problem  of  science.  Scientific  prog- 
ress depends  on  the  accumulation  of  facts,  though  this 
progress  stands  not  in  relation  to  their  number,  but  to  the 
sum  of  the  materials  of  thought  derived  from  them.  A 
thousand  facts  change  not  of  themselves  the  standing-point 
of  science,  and  a  single  one,  which  has  become  compre- 
hensible, outweighs,  in  time,  the  value  of  all  the  others. 
These  remarks  concerning  the  development  of  our  empir- 
ical conception,  are  perhaps  fitted  to  lead  to  a  juster  esti- 
mate, than  hitherto,  of  the  different  periods  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  natural  phenomena. 

As  the  explication  of  a  natural  phenomenon  is  a  logical 
piocess,  the  intellect  is  able  to  fix  beforehand  the  princi- 
ples, that  is,  the  logical  conditions,  conjointly  requisite  to 
such  explication.  This  was  done  by  Aristotle.  ''The 
procedure  of  philosophy,"  he  remarks,  ''  is  that  of  all  the 
other  sciences  ;  we  must  first  collect  facts,  and  get  a 
knowledge  of  the  things  which  are  the  subject  of  them : 
not  the  mass  of  facts  at  once,  but  each  for  itself  is  to  be 
first  examined,  and  conclusions  thence  drawn.  Having 
the  facts,  it  is  our  subsequent  business  to  establish  their 
connection.  The  facts  themselves  are  obtained  through 
sensual  perceptions  -,  when  these  are  imperfect,  so  will  be 
the  knowledge  reared  upon  them      We  can  have  no  gen< 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  SCIENTIFIC  IDEAS.  ^52 

eral  theoretical  propositions,  except  by  means  of  induction, 
and  inductions  can  be  framed  only  through  sensual  percep- 
tions, for  these  are  concerned  with  the  particular." 

Such  are  the  principles  of  investigation  bequeathed  us 
by  the  greatest  of  the  ancient  thinkers.  They  are  as  valid 
now  as  they  were  two  thousand  years  ago. 

Comparing  Aristotle's  explanations  of  natural  phenom- 
ena, as  well  as  those  of  the  whole  following  series  of  in- 
vestigators, down  to  our  day,  we  find  at  all  times  the 
opinion  prevalent  that  the  conceptions  were  in  harmony 
with  the  facts,  and  indeed  the  explications  always  corre- 
sponded to  the  'laws  of  logic,  but  the  later  ones  are  con- 
stantly in  contradiction  with  the  earlier ;  what  was  deemed 
true  is  afterward  found  to  be  false,  and  thus  the  following 
explanations  always  annul  the  preceding,  which  procedure 
goes  on  for  centuries.  Manifestly,  therefore,  the  truth  of 
explications  does  not  depend  on  the  principles  of  logic 
alone.  If,  however,  we  consider  the  empirical  concep- 
tions of  Aristotle  and  of  subsequent  investigators,  we  at 
once  perceive  the  ground  wherefore  the  most  highly  de- 
veloped intellect  and  the  subtlest  logic  are  not  sufficient, 
of  themselves,  to  the  framing  of  a  just  explication,  for  this 
depends  on  the  contents  of  the  empirical  conceptions. 

At  the  outset  the  facts  embraced  in  a  conception  are  in- 
determinate, being  not  fixed  either  in  their  number  or  ex- 
tension, whence  the  first  explications  can,  manifestly,  be 
neither  definite  nor  limited,  and  they  must  change  just  in 
proportion  as  the  facts  are  more  distinctly  ascertained,  and 
as  the  unknown  ones  belonging  to  the  conception  are  dis- 
covered and  are  incorporated  in  it.  The  earlier  explana- 
tions are  therefore  only  relatively  false,  and  the  later  only 
therein  truer  that  the  contents  of  the  conceptions  of  things 
are  more  comprehensive,  determinate,  and  distinct.  This 
takes  place  in  a  certain  succession. 


B54 


PROFESSOR   LIEBIG   ON  THE 


No  later  developed  conception  can  precede  in  time  an 
earlier,  and  if  this  happens  the  conception  is  without  effect, 
because  deficient  in  comprehension.  On  the  earlier  con- 
ception is  grounded  the  development  of  all  the  following 
ones.  The  explications  of  natural  phenomena  by  the 
Greek  philosophers,  and  by  subsequent  investigators,  man« 
ifest  the  extent  and  comprehension  of  their  empirical. ideas, 
and  nothing  further ;  in  which  respect  those  explications 
are  of  special  interest  for  the  history  of  the  evolution  of 
ideas  in  natural  science,  containing,  as  they  do,  the  begin- 
nings and  bases  of  our  own  conceptions. 

Aristotle  distinguishes  the  solid  from  tire  fluid  and  aeri- 
form. All  solid  things  are  with  him  varieties  of  some- 
thing solid ;  we  can  understand  that  transparent  bodies 
have  something  in  common  with  water ;  but  language  is 
inadequate  to  the  limiting  of  the  other  differences  of  solid 
Sodies  in  figure,  color,  hardness  ;  that  alone  is  determina- 
ole  which  can  be  formed  from  those  bodies,  or  which  pro- 
ceeds from  them.  A  white  stone,  in  the  fire,  yields  lime ; 
another  white  stone  melts  into  glass ;  a  red  stone  gives 
iron ;  another  red  stone  gives  quicksilver  j  a  gray  stone, 
tin ;  a  black,  lead.  ''  The  essential  of  things,"  remarks 
Aristotle,  "  lies  in  the  form."  Here  is  the  first  conception 
of  chemical  analysis. 

''*'  Daily  experience  shows  that  solids  cannot  float  in  air 
or  in  space,  unless  sustained  by  something,  and  as  we  see 
the  stars  behind  the  moon,  and  the  moon  is  nearer  the 
earth  than  the  sun  is,  these  bodies  must,  as  solids,  be  fixed 
on  transparent  rings  or  spherical  shells,  which  revolve 
about  the  earth,  bearing  those  bodies  with  them. 

"  A  stone,  falling  freely,  descends  to  the  earth  with 
accelerated  velocity ;  the  senses  and  understanding  are 
wholly  incapable  of  perceiving  that  the  earth  has  any  con- 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   SCIENTIFIC   IDEAS.  ^SS 

nection  with  the  fall ;  evidently  there  must  exist  an  im- 
pulse in  the  stone  itself  to  seek  that  place  which  Nature 
has  assigned  to  it."  Here  is  the  beginning  of  the  conception 
of  gravity^  or  of  an  attractive  force. 

These  notions  of  the  Greeks  were  entirely  in  accord- 
ance with  their  experience,  and  so  far  right,  as  no  others 
were  then  possible.  The  conception  of  time,  which  be- 
longs to  the  composite  notion  of  velocity,  was  first  devel- 
oped fifteen  hundred  years  after  Aristotle,  and  became 
incorporated  in  it.  Clocks,  or  time-measurers  for  short 
intervals,  the  Greeks  had  not. 

In  the  beginning  of  physical  investigation,  the  complex 
phenomena  of  rain,  rainbows,  combustion,  and  respiration, 
are  of  course  looked  upon  as  simple,  for  nothing  is  then 
known  of  their  parts  ;  later  it  is  found  that  cloud  must 
precede  rain,  that  without  the  sun  there  is  no  rainbow,  and 
without  air  no  combustion  or  respiration.  The  subse- 
quently observed  part  of  the  phenomenon  is  constantly  re- 
garded as  its  cause,  the  sun  as  cause  of  the  rainbow,  the 
air  as  cause  of  respiration  and  combustion,  entirely  in  the 
sense  that  we  consider  the  moon's  revolution  as  causing 
the  ebb  and  flow. 

So  the  detecting  and  establishing  by  Thales  of  the  man- 
ifold relations  of  water,  of  those  of  air  by  Anaximenes,  of 
those  of  fire  by  Heraclitus,  belong  to  the  greatest  discov- 
eries, for  these  philosophers  thus  cleared  the  way  for  all 
the  questions  relating  to  the  most  important  phenomena 
en  the  earth's  surface,  to  the  life  of  animals  and  men — 
questions  which  engrossed  attention  up  to  the  most  recent 
period. 

From  the  acute  verbal  analyses  of  the  Greek  thinkers, 
we  learn  with  great  definiteness  the  sum  of  the  concep- 
tions, which  the  words,  that  occupied  them  in  their  intel 


J56  PROFESSOR   LIEBIG   ON  THE 

lectual  operations,  involve,  and  it  would  suffice  to  compare 
the  comprehension  of  one  of  these  words,  e.  g.,  "  air,"  in 
its  several  periods,  with  our  own,  in  order  to  obtain  a  Ciear 
view  of  the  character  of  the  empirical  conceptions  in  those 
periods,  and  of  their  mode  of  development. 

The  Greeks  knew  that  air  in  a  bladder  resists  pressure, 
and  that  the  water  in  which  an  empty  glass  is  inverted 
will  not  fill  the  glass  ;  air  was  regarded  as  a  resisting,  space- 
filling thing,  as  an  element,  and,  next  to  fire  (/.  r.,  smoke 
which  ascends  in  the  atmosphere),  as  the  lightest  element. 
Down  to  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  it  was 
supposed  to  be  transformable  into  water,  in  the  middle  of 
that  century,  as  not  transformable  into  water — it  was  found 
to  contain  water  in  the  form  of  air ;  in  1630  it  was  ascer- 
tained to  be  heavy,  /.  ^.,  ponderable;  1643,  to  be  some- 
thing which  presses  with  its  whole  weight  upon  all  bodies 
on  the  earth's  surface ;  1647,  it  was  discovered  that  its 
invisible  molecules  press  upon  each  other  and  are  elastic, 
whence  the  lower  atmospheric  strata  are  denser  than  the 
higher;  1660,  that  kinds  of  air,  elastic  like  common  air, 
can  be  produced  artificially  in  chemical  processes;  1727, 
that  there  are  such  kinds  of  air  in  plants,  animal  matters, 
stones,  and  metallic  calxes ;  not  products,  but  educes, 
many  combustible,  others  extinguishing  fire ;  1 774,  amongst 
them  a  kind  wherein  combustible  bodies  burn  more  freely 
than  in  common  air;  1775)  that  the  mass  of  the  atmos- 
phere consists  of  two  sorts  of  air,  one  of  which  supports 
combustion,  the  other  not,  moreover  of  a  variable  amount 
of  watery  vapor ;  at  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  ccntur)*, 
that  it  contains  also  carbonic  acid  ;  in  the  nineteenth  cen* 
tury,  ammonia  and  nitric  acid,  and,  lastly,  that  fungous 
fpores  of  all  sorts  float  in  it. 

Our  standing-point  relatively  to   the  conception  of  aii 


DEVELOPMENT   OF  SCIENTIFIC   IDEAS.  oey 

has  been  gained  in  consequence  of  the  efForts  of  hundreds 
of  the  acutest  of  minds,  during  a  space  of  more  than  two 
thousand  years,  through  a  continual  extending,  purging,  and 
limiting  of  the  original  conception,  and  therein  lies  the 
difference  between  former  notions  of  things  and  events, 
and  those  of  our  own  day.  I  shall  afterward  have  occa- 
sion to  show  that,  to  the  discovery  of  the  facts  which 
were  connected  with  the  conception  of  air,  and  which 
gradually  gave  to  its  comprehension  more  largeness  and 
definiteness,  the  ''  idea "  of  the  facts  was  anterior,  i.  e.^ 
that  they  were  first  "thought"  and  then  discovered. 

It  is  readily  perceived  that  most  of  our  conceptions  in 
philosophy,  and  especially  in  jurisprudence,  have  been  ob- 
tained and  evolved  in  a  way  wholly  similar,  so  that,  for  in- 
stance, the  notions  now  embraced  in  the  word  "  state  "  or 
"  church  "  differ  from  those  of  a  century  ago.  The  con- 
ception of  "  God "  undergoes  change  and  development 
with  that  of  "  force." 

Each  of  our  present  notions  is  the  fruit  of  time,  and  of 
infinite  toil  and  intellectual  effort,  and  if  our  speculations 
are  less  bold  than  those  of  the  Greeks,  it  is  because  we 
have  learned,  from  their  example,  that  the  highest  soaring 
of  imagination  and  the  subtlest  logic  change  not  our  stand- 
ing-point, and  are  without  effect  on  the  regular  course  of 
the  evolution  of  our  empirical  conceptions.  Euclid,  with 
all  his  great  mathematical  talent,  believed  that  vision  takes 
place  by  means  of  rays  issuing  from  the  eyes ;  and  Des- 
cartes, one  of  the  most  powerful  of  all  thinkers,  could  not 
rise,  in  his  day,  to  the  notion  of  an  attractive  force. 

The  opinion  prevails  widely  that  there  was  a  gap  in  the 
investigation  of  nature  between  the  days  of  the  Gieeks 
and  our  modern  times  down  to  the  fifteenth  century.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  middle  ages  are  characterized  by  historians 


J58  PROFESSOR   UEBIG   ON  THE 

as  a  period  of  pause  and  stagnation,  and  the  fifteenth  cen. 
tury  as  that  of  the  renascence  of  the  sciences.  As  regards 
Europe  this  opinion  is  not  absolutely  true,  and  does  not 
hold  of  Western  Europe  (Germany,  England,  and  the 
present  France),  in  which  Gr'^cian  and  Roman  culture 
could  not  have  become  extinct  in  the  middle  ages,  seeing 
it  was  not  introduced  there  until  much  later.  It  should  be 
remembered  that,  in  the  times  of  the  academies  of  Athens, 
Western  Europe  was  inhabited  by  half-savage  populations, 
who  clothed  themselves  in  skins ;  that  under  Charlemagne 
most  of  the  dignitaries  and  greatest  barons  of  the  empire 
could  not  write  their  own  names ;  that  in  the  thirteenth 
century  Rome  was  still  the  focus  of  the  traffic  in  Christian 
slaves,  and  that  there  were  great  slave-markets  in  Lyons, 
and  in  the  cities  lying  on  the  east  and  north  seas. 

Charlemagne's  endeavors,  by  the  establishment  of 
schools,  to  elevate  the  intelligence  of  the  rude  and  igno- 
rant priesthood  of  the  age,  could  have  no  result ;  the  soil 
on  which  culture  thrives  being  not  yet  prepared.  The  de- 
velopment of  culture,  /'.  ^.,  the  extending  of  man's  spiritual 
domain,  depends  on  the  growth  of  the  inventions  which 
condition  the  progress  of  civilization ;  for,  through  these, 
new  facts  are  obtained,  indispensable  to  the  increase  of 
empirical  conceptions  or  material  of  thought. 

The  development  of  science,  the  mother  of  which  is 
culture,  requires  still  other  conditions ;  it  depends  on  the 
formation  of  a  class  who  shall  devote  their  powers  to  the 
cultivation  of  the  intellectual  domain,  exclusive  of  every 
.ither  end.  As  the  men  who  consecrate  themselves  to  this 
labor  produce  no  marketable  commodities  which  they  can 
exchange  for  the  necessaries  of  life,  such  a  class  cannot 
urise  until  a  certain  surplus  amount  of  riches  has  been  ac- 
cuniulatec,  not  reeded  by  its  possessors  for  the  satisfaction 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   SCIENT11<1C   IDEAS.  o^g 

of  their  material  wants.     Such  accumulation  once  real 
ized,  men's  spiritual  wants  presently  assert  their  claims, 
and  the  wealthy  class  becomes  ready  to  exchange  a  por- 
tion of  its  riches  for  the  means  of  mental  culture. 

Although,  during  the  middle  ages.^  there  was  uninter- 
rupted intercourse  between  the  Eastern  empire  and  Italy, 
and  no  obstacle  existed  to  the  diffusion  of  Byzantine  learn- 
ing, this  learning  did  not,  however,  pass  into  the  West  until 
the  fourteenth  century,  because  here  an  intellectual  class 
being  not  yet  formed,  the  conditions  necessary  to  the  en- 
couragement and  advancement  of  it  were  wanting.  Man- 
ifestly, Grecian  culture  could  spread  in  Western  Europe 
only  in  proportipn  as  the  civilization  of  the  peoples  became 
approximate  to  that  of  Greek  antiquity.  It  is  easily  shown 
that  the  civilization  of  the  European  populations  constantly 
advanced  from  the  decline  of  the  old  Greek  states,  but, 
through  peculiar  relations  presently  to  be  noticed,  it  re- 
mained for  some  time  without  influence  on  the  progress 
of  culture,  /.  ^.,  of  its  intellectual  department,  whence  a 
seeming  break. 

As  to  the  influence  of  inventions  upon  the  development 
of  conceptions  and  ideas  in  physical  science,  it  is  enough 
to  mention  that,  e.  g.^  the  true  view  of  the  motion  of  the 
earth  and  other  planets  became  established  through  the 
mvention  of  the  telescope ;  as,  also,  all  the  advances  of 
astronomy  were  dependent  on  the  improvement  of  optical 
instruments.  The  invention  of  colorless  glass  preceded 
that  of  the  telescope.  The  further  improvement  of  opti- 
cal instruments  rested  upon  the  fabrication  of  flint-glass, 
and  on  that  of  achromatic  lenses,  which  Newton  deemed 
impossible.  With  Galileo's  telescope,  Uranus  and  Sat- 
urn's satellites  could  not  have  been  discovered.  Coperni- 
cus regarded  his  own  view,  not  as  "true,"  but  as  "simpler" 
24 


360 


PROFESSOR   LIEBIG   ON   THE 


«nd  **  fairer,"  just  as  we  consider  the  notions  of  the  psy- 
chologist not  true  in  the  same  sense  as  2  x  2  =  4  is  so, 
but  as  "  appropriate,"  **  profound,"  or  "  exhaustive.  ' 

Chemical  analysis  issued  from  the  art  of  assaying;  min- 
eial  chemistry  from  the  technico-chemical  trades;  organic 
chemistry  from  mv;dicine.  The  theory  of  heat  has  re- 
ceived extension  through  the  steam-engine,  that  of  light 
through  photography. 

In  astronomy,  the  Greeks  did  the  utmost  that  the  com- 
mand of  a  single  unaided  sense  permitted  ;  they  discovered 
the  law  of  the  reflection  of  light,  the  arithmetical  relations 
of  tones,  the  centre  of  gravity,  the  law  of  the  lever  and 
that  of  hydrostatic  pressure,  and  also  whatever,  by  the  aid 
of  mathematics,  could  be  deduced  from  these  laws  and 
from  astronomical  observations ;  but  all  further  progress 
was  restricted  through  the  degree  of  their  civilization. 
The  source  of  the  trade,  wealth,  and  power  of  the  Grecian 
itates  in  their  prime,  was  a  very  highly  developed  and 
varied  industry :  Corinth  furnished  what  might  be  styled 
the  Birmingham  and  Sheffield  wares ;  Athens  was  the 
centre  of  such  manufactures  as  are  now  distributed  be- 
tween Leeds,  Staffordshire,  and  London  (woollen  cloths, 
dyeing,  earthenwares,  gold  and  silver  utensils,  ship-build- 
ing). The  citizens  were  in  largest  measure  manufacturers, 
ship-owners,  merchants,  having  their  countinj^-houses  and 
factories  on  all  the  coasts  of  the  Black  Sea  and  Mediterra- 
nean ;  the  men  of  science  were  burghers'  sons,  and  in- 
itiated in  industrial  pursuits.  Socrates  was  a  stone-cutter, 
Aristotle  an  apothecary  (preparer  of  medicines  and  physi 
cian),  Plato  and  Solon  not  unfamiliar  with  trade. 

The  learned,  in  ancient  Greece,  spoke  and  wrote  the 
tame  language  as  the  industrial  class ;  in  their  education 
the  last  stood  on  the  same  level  with  the  philosophers ; 


DEVELOPMENT   OF  SCIENTIFIC  IDEAS.  o6i 

hey  differed  only  in  the  direction  of  their  knowledges. 
Democratic  institutions  united  both  in  a  close  personal  in- 
tercourse. Indeed,  the  thirty-eight  chapters  of  the  "  Prob- 
lems "  seem  to  be  nothing  else  but  questions  by  masters 
of  trades,  artificers,  musicians,  architects,  engineers,  which 
Aristotle  sought  to  answer,  so  far  as  his  empirical  concep- 
tions enabled  him. 

No  other  country  of  the  ancient  world  united  (down  to 
the  time  of  Pericles),  in  its  social  state,  in  the  intimate 
conjunction  of  the  productive  with  the  intellectual  class, 
the  conditions  necessary  to  the  origination  of  science,  so 
well  as  Greece  did.  But  Greece  was  a  slave  country,  and 
in  slavery  lay  the  ban  which  enclosed  her  civilization  in 
narrow  limits  and  rendered  them  impassable.  All  the 
products  of  Greek  manufactories  were  the  work  of  slaves. 
Athens,  in  her  prime,  contained  nearly  two  thousand  slaves 
to  every  hundred  citizens,  a  number  which  indicates  the 
extraordinary  development  of  her  industry. 

It  is  plain  that  a  workman,  e.g.^  an  artisan,  is  not,  of 
himself  alone,  in  a  condition  to  produce  more  exchange- 
able commodities  than  will  suffice  to  purchase  for  him  and 
his  family  the  merest  necessaries  ;  he  must  be  able  to  com- 
mand the  labor  of  twenty  men  and  upward,  before  he  can 
manufacture  a  surplus  adequate  to  satisfy  the  wants  of  a 
portion  of  his  countrymen  ;  and  the  entire  industrial  classes 
of  a  country  must  produce  a  very  much  greater  surplus, 
before  their  commodities  can  become  objects  of  foreign 
commerce.  This  last  condition  is  reahzed  in  all  industrio- 
commercial  states,  and  was  realized  in  Greece ;  for  the 
wealth  existing  there  in  the  precious  metals  was  not  ob- 
tained by  pillage,  but  by  exchanging  the  products  of  Gre- 
cian industry,  in  other  countries,  where  they  were  more 
wanted  than  gold  and  silver. 


|6a  PROFESSOR   LIEBIG   ON  THE 

The  progress  of  Greek  civilization  was  dependent  es* 
sentially  on  the  change  of  slave-labor  into  free,  a  transfor 
mation  not  supposable  without  the  employment  of  natuiil 
forces,  applied  to  labor-saving  machines. 

It  is  evident  that,  with  the  invention  of  a  machine 
which  shall  convert  a  given  natural  force  {e.  g.,  a  falling 
weight  of  water)  into  an  industrial  force,  performing  the 
labor  of  twenty  men,  the  inventor  could  grow  rich  and 
twenty  slaves  be  set  free  ;  moreover,  that  the  natural  effect 
of  the  introduction  of  machines  is  an  augmentation  of  the 
productive  class,  whence  a  greater  number  of  inventors 
and  increased  production.  But,  in  a  slave-state,  the  appli- 
cation of  natural  forces  and  the  substitution  of  machine- 
labor  for  servile,  is  mainly  impossible,  for  as,  in  such  a 
state,  the  profits  of  the  capitalist  rest  upon  his  slaves,  he 
sees  that  the  introduction  of  machines  must  imperil  his 
resources,  and  when,  as  in  Greece,  the  capitalists  belong  to 
the  ruling  class,  the  government  and  people  will  combine 
to  perpetuate  the  existing  system,  /.  e.,  slavery  ; — the  gov- 
ernment with  the  seemingly-wise  purpose  of  assuring  sub- 
sistence to  the  laborers. 

Only  the  freeman,  not  the  slave,  has  a  disposition  and 
interest  to  improve  implements  or  to  invent  them  >  accord- 
ingly, in  the  devising  of  a  complicated  machine,  the  work- 
men employed  upon  it  are  generally  co-inventors.  The 
eccentric  and  the  governor,  most  important  parts  of  the 
steam-engine,  were  devised  by  laborers.  The  improve- 
ment of  established  industrial  methods  by  slaves,  them- 
selves industrial  machines,  is  out  of  the  question. 

Freedom^  that  is,  the  absence  of  all  restrictions  which  can 
prevent  men  from  using  to  their  advantage  the  powers  which 
God  has  given  them,  is  the  weightiest  of  all  the  conditions 
of  progress  in  civilization  and  culture. 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   SCIENTIFIC   IDEAS.  063 

A  glance  at  China  enables  us  to  understand  the  effect 
produced  upon  a  gifted  people,  simply  by  excluding  the 
application  of  natural  forces  to  labor-saving  machines.  Its 
high  civilization  has  been  thus  rendered  stationary  for  the 
past  two  thousand  years. 

In  England,  however,  and  especially  in  the  United 
States  of  North  America,  where  free  action  is  not  re- 
stricted by  antiquated  regulations  and  laws,  the  product  of 
ignorance,  we  see  a  perpetual  growth  of  wealth,  power,  and 
civilization,  and  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  amongst  the 
peoples  of  the  North  American  Free  States,  all  the  condi- 
tions exist  for  their  development  to  the  highest  point  of 
culture  and  civilization  attainable  by  men. 

A  modern  state,  wherein  there  is  no  liberty  of  industry, 
where  the  management  and  extension  of  a  business  depends 
on  the  will  of  ignorant  officials,  where  the  freeman  is  hin- 
dered from  choosing  the  place  which  he  finds  most  suit- 
able for  the  employment  of  his  powers,  and  cannot  marry 
without  permission  of  his  superiors,  this  is  the  old  slave 
condition,  in  which  the  pith  and  marrow  of  the  people  is  poor 
and  without  susceptibility  for  intellectual  and  moral  cul 
ture,  and  of  which  the  wealth  and  power  are  an  allusive 
varnish  that  a  little  friction  rubs  away. 

The  effect  of  riches  on  the  spirit  of  the  productive 
classes  is  visible  in  the  commercial  states  whose  trade 
rests  on  industry.  The  sons  of  the  opulent  manufactur- 
ers and  merchants  abandon  their  fathers'  business,  which 
was  the  source  of  their  wealth  ;  being  rich  to  superfluity, 
they  transfer  their  ambition  to  the  pursuit  of  rank  and 
reputation,  devoting  themselves  to  science,  to  politics,  to 
the  army,  or  church,  and  in  this  wise  the  intellectual  class 
grows  out  of  the  productive. 

In  modern  Europe  a  manufacturer  is  not  transmitted  to 


064  PROFESSOR  LIEBIG   ON  THE 

the  third  generation  ;  so,  too,  most  commercial  houses  pass 
to  other  hands  in  the  second.  Hence,  in  a  free  country, 
the  renewal  of  the  producing  class  with  each  generation, 
and  the  constant  resuscitation  of  industry.  The  industri- 
als, grown  rich,  give  place  to  energetic,  inventive  poor 
men,  and  thus  a  circulation  is  established  in  the  state, 
through  which  its  power  and  wealth  increase  continually. 

In  Greece,  the  course  of  things  was  quite  difterent. 
There,  as  everywhere,  riches  generated  the  intellectual 
order,  whose  maintenance,  of  course,  depended  on  the  pro- 
ductive class  ;  but  this  last  was  not  renewed  and  rejuve 
nated  ;  the  poor  freeman  was  obliged  to  emigrate  ;  he 
could,  perhaps,  fabricate  a  machine,  but  not  slaves,  and, 
without  slaves,  the  acquisition  of  wealth,  through  industry, 
was  impossible.  Commerce  alone  remained  open  to  a 
minority. 

With  the  ceasing  of  that  circulation  in  the  state,  which 
maintains  industry  and  the  power  of  production,  and  is  the 
condition  of  theii  progress,  Greece  had  reached  the  bounds 
of  her  civilization.  There  were  no  more  inventions  by  the 
people  grown  rich^  and,  in  the  absence  of  new  facts  won 
from  nature,  the  source  of  the  empirical  conceptions  indis- 
pensable to  the  extension  of  the  intellectual  domain,  i.  e., 
of  culture,  became  exhausted.  The  trade  in  Grecian  prod- 
ucts necessarily  passed,  by  degrees,  into  a  trade  in  foreign 
commodities  i  the  accumulated  capital,  therefore,  could 
not  long  remain  undiminished,  though,  indeed,  the  vital 
nerve  of  the  slave-state  was  withered  centuries  before 
there  were  any  outward  marks  of  decline. 

Greek  civilization  travelled  through  the  Roman  empire 
and  the  Arabians  into  every  European  country,  and  its 
continuous  evolution  is  manifested  throughout  the  middle 
ages  in  the  increase  of  inventions.     At  the  close  of  the 


DEVELOPMENT   OF  SCIENTIFIC  IDEAS.  365 

fifteenth  century  we  find  already  an  advanced  algebra  and 
trigonometry,  the  decimal  notation,  an  improved  calendar, 
and  a  complete  revolution  prepared  in  medicine ;  we  re- 
mark extraordinary  progress  in  mining  and  smelting,  in 
dyeing,  weaving,  tanning,  in  glass-making,  architecture, 
and  especially  in  the  department  of  chemistry.  Paper, 
telescopes,  guns,  clocks,  knitting  with  needles,  table-forks, 
horse-shoes,  bells,  chimneys,  wood-engraving,  copperplate- 
engraving,  wiredrawing,  preparing  of  steel,  table-glass,  lead- 
foiling  and  tin-foiling  of  mirrors,  windmills,  stamping-mills, 
saw-mills,  were  all  invented  ;  the  corn-mill  and  the  loom 
improved. 

These  facts  give  a  notion  of  the  progress  of  civilization 
in  Western  Europe,  and,  on  these  and  on  the  geographical 
discoveries,  rest  all  the  acquisitions  in  the  intellectual  do- 
main during  the  fifteenth  century :  we  find  a  flourishing 
commerce,  which,  from  Genoa,  Pisa,  Venice,  and  the 
coast-cities  of  the  North  and  East  Seas,  embraced  all 
Europe,  linking  it  with  Arabia  and  India,  and  having  as  its 
basis  a  varied  industry  in  the  busy  towns  of  the  Nether- 
lands, Italy,  Germany,  and  England  ;  we  see  in  these 
towns  a  free,  opulent  burgher-class  arise  in  advanced  vigor, 
and  naturally  from  this  class,  in  consequence  of  the  ac- 
cumulated wealth,  the  intellectual  order  develops  itself. 
From  that  point  began  the  continuation  of  Grecian  and 
Roman  culture. 

The  members  of  the  newly  originated  intellectual  class 
were  at  first  occupied  in  gaining  possession  of  the  treasures 
of  ancient  learning  ;  and  so  long  as  they  were  themselves 
still  learners,  that  is,  not  so  thoroughly  imbued  with  the 
spirit  of  ancient  culture  as  to  be  able  to  advance  and  ex- 
tend it,  they  could  not  efficiently  discharge  their  proper 
office  of  being  teachers  of  the  pubUc  ;  they  even  turned 


j66  PROFESSOR   UEBIG   ON  THE 

away  from  the  people  and  the  popular  dialect,  not  indeed 
without  reason,  for  the  vernacular  literature  exhibited 
scarce  any  thing  worthy  to  attract  and  enchain  minds  dis- 
ciplined by  the  study  of  antique  models. 

The  position  and  employment  of  the  learned  of  those 
times  concurred  in  withdrawing  them  from  contact  wiih 
the  productive  classes.  Accordingly,  the  literature  ,)f  that 
age  gives  no  indication  of  the  degree  of  the  popular  civili- 
zation and  culture  ;  for  the  knowledge  circulating  through 
the  masses  and  absorbed  into  their  thinking,  a  knowledge 
originating  in  their  improved  acquaintance  with  physical 
laws,  and  proportionate  to  the  sum  of  their  juster  ideas  of 
things  and  the  relations  of  things,  was  not  yet  stored  up  in 
books,  and  was  wholly  foreign  to  the  learned. 

The  approximation  of  the  intellectual  and  productive 
orders  was  hardly  prevented  by  the  exclusiveness  of  the 
former ;  in  truth,  the  industrial  population,  down  to  the 
fourteenth  century,  from  the  rudeness  and  poverty  of  the 
written  language,  lacked  the  necessary  means  of  such  ap- 
proximation. In  place  of  the  learned,  the  Meistersanger, 
in  their  singing- schools,  had  much  influence  in  promoting 
the  development  and  diffusion  of  language,  oral  and  writ- 
ten, amongst  the  burgher-classes.  These  last  had  been 
previously  restricted  altogether  to  personal  intercourse 
through  travel,  for  the  interchange  and  increase  of  their 
experiences  ;  they  were  migratory  ;  but,  with  the  com- 
mand of  a  written  language,  the  facts  and  observations 
gatheied  by  them  were  collected  and  made  difliisible  ; 
leading  and  writing,  arts  unknown  before,  were  recognized 
by  the  people  as  most  important  helps  for  the  advancement 
and  interchange  of  knowledge — first  of  all  in  the  towns 
whose  industry  was  incompatible  with  a  migratory  popula 


DEVELOPMENT   OF  SCIENTIFIC  IDEaS.  •^67 

tion.     In  these  towns   the   earliest   popular  schools  were 
founded. 

The  impulse  to  diffuse  the  lore  of  antiquity,  by  means 
of  schools,  was  as  strong  amongst  the  learned  as  was  the 
wish  for  instruction  in  the  productive  class.  Both  circum- 
stances combined  to  stimulate  the  desire  for  books  ;  the 
difficulty  of  satisfying  it  through  copyists  gave  occasion  to 
the  invention  of  printing,  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth 
century.  A  century  earlier,  the  invention  would  have  had 
no  influence  on  intellectual  progress.  From  the  time  of 
its  actual  occurrence,  dates  a  new  period  in  the  history  of 
culture. 

A  survey  of  literature,  at  the  end  of  a  century  after  the 
printing  of  the  first  book  with  movable  type,  awakens  our 
astonishment  at  the  extent  and  importance  of  the  achieve- 
ments in  the  physical  sciences  and  medicine,  and  at  the 
extraordinary  mass  of  facts  and  experiences,  which  the 
middle  ages  had  acquired  and  transmitted,  in  astronomy, 
technics,  engineering,  and  in  the  trades,  and  which  were 
now  collected  by  the  intelligent  scholars  of  the  learned 
schools,  who  stood  nearest  to  the  producing  classes,  namely 
the  physicians.  In  the  sixteenth  century  the  physicians 
were  the  founders  of  the  modern  natural  sciences,  they 
participated  in  the  diffusion  and  extension  of  Greek  learn 
ing,  and  intervened  in  the  intellectual  education  of  the 
people. 

Another  century  and  a  half  elapsed,  however,  before  the 
knowledge,  accumulated  by  them,  was  arranged  and  ren- 
dered comprehensive  and  complete  enough  to  be  employed 
in  university  instruction.  Hitherto  the  foreign  language 
in  which  that  knowledge  was  communicated — a  language 
jniversally  current  amongst  the  learned  of  Europe — had 
had  the  inestimable  advantage  of  uniting  all  the  European 


g68  PROFESSOR   LIEBIG   ON  THE 

thinkers  devoted  to  the  sciences,  in  the  solution  of  theii 
high  problems.  Without  the  common  Latin  language, 
this  fruitful  conjunction  of  labors  had  been  impossible.  It 
was  not  until  near  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  that, 
with  the  exclusion  of  Latin  in  schools  and  literature,  the 
last  barrier  between  the  intellectual  and  producing  classes 
fell.  Both  again  spoke,  as  in  old  Greece,  the  same  lan-> 
guage,  and  understood  each  other ;  for  science,  school,  ind 
poetry  acted  conjointly  in  diffusing  an  equally  high  grade 
of  intellectual  discipline  amongst  all  ranks. 

With  the  extinction  of  the  slavery  of  the  ancient  world, 
and  the  union  of  all  the  conditions  for  the  evolution  of  the 
human  mind,  a  progress  in  civilization  and  culture  is 
thenceforth  assured,  indestructible,  imperishable. 

In  the  natural  course  of  physical  inquiry  a  change  has 
taken  place.  Most  of  the  facts  from  which  the  investiga- 
tor elaborated  empirical  ideas,  he  had  long  received  from 
the  metallurgists,  the  engineers,  the  apothecaries,  briefly, 
from  the  industrials,  and  had  resolved  their  inventions  into 
conceptions,  which  the  producing  classes  received  back  in 
the  form  of  explications  and  applied  to  their  own  practical 
ends.  The  industrials  thence  abandoned  their  dislike  of 
theory  ;  the  craftsman,  technist  (Techniker),  agriculturist, 
physician,  as  formerly  in  Greece,  ask  counsel  of  the  learned 
theorist. 

A  new  change  began  when  the  learned  physical  investi- 
gator, the  teacher  of  medicine,  had  acquired  the  technical 
dexterity  of  the  practical  classes,  and  when  these  had  ap- 
propriated the  laws  and  scientific  principles  established  by 
the  learned.  In  the  pursuit  of  his  ends,  the  scientific 
inquirer  has  thus  become  independent  and  an  inventor  \ 
the  craftsman,  agriculturist,  etc.,  have  gained  independence 
of  inquiry,  intellei  tual  freedom.     The  future  discloses  to 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  SCIENTIFIC  IDEAS.  369 

our  view  an  animated  picture  of  an  endless  activity,  fertile 
in  results.     The  past  appears  to  us  now  in  a  different  light. 

We  see  that  the  warfare  against  physical  inquiry,  waged 
by  the  scholasticism  and  theology  of  the  middle  ages,  was 
of  no  import  whatsoever.  The  ground  of  it  was  an  in- 
ability, at  the  time,  to  distinguish  a  dogma  from  a  fact. 
The  spiritual  and  temporal  powers  united  could  not  have 
prevented  the  invention  of  the  telescope  and  mariner's 
compass  and  the  discovery  of  oxygen,  nor  have  repressed 
the  effect  of  them  on  the  minds  of  men.  A  book  can  be 
burned,  but  not  a  fact. 

With  the  proof  that  this  earth  is  a  small  planet  circulat- 
ing about  the  sun,  the  early  representation  of  "  Heaven  " 
became  meaningless,  as  did  the  representation  of  "  Hell " 
with  the  explanation  of  fire.  Upon  the  discovery  of  at- 
mospheric pressure,  the  belief  in  witchcraft  and  magic  had 
no  further  support,  for,  along  with  her  "  horror  vacui," 
Nature  lost  her  "  willing,"  her  love  and  her  hate.  With 
these  discoveries,  mankind  began  to  feel  their  strength  and 
position  in  the  universe. 

As  to  the  scholasticism  of  the  middle  ages,  had  Aristotle 
and  Plato  risen  from  their  graves,  to  become  teachers  in 
its  schools,  they  could  not  have  furthered  intellectual 
progress,  because  of  the  lack  of  advanced  empirical  con- 
ceptions. The  logic  of  those  ages,  and  the  intellectual 
gymnastics  resting  upon  it,  best  corresponded  to  that  time 
and  the  future.  The  hostility  against  the  later  physical 
inquiry  was  without  effect. 

Physical  science  would  not  have  advanced  one  step 
further  than  it  has  done,  nor  have  developed  itself  earlier 
or  otherwise,  even  had  the  entire  spiritual  and  political 
power  been  in  league  with  it. 

A  computation,  were  it  made,  of  the  effect  produced  by 


370 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  SCIENTIFIC   IDEAS. 


Luther  upon  our  day  and  our  stand-point,  with  tne  great 
discoveries  in  nature  then  extant,  and  of  the  effect  these 
would  have  produced  without  Luther,  would  lead  to  a  cor- 
rect result. 

We  now  know  that  ideas  develop  themselves  organ 
ically  according  to  determinate  laws  of  nature  and  of  the 
human  mind,  and  we  see  the  tree  of  knowledge  which  the 
Greeks  planted  expand  uninterruptedly  on  the  soil  of  civili- 
zation and  with  the  due  culture  of  it,  and  blossom  and 
bear  fruit,  under  the  sunshine  of  freedom,  at  the  proper 
time.  We  have  learned  that  its  branches  can  indeed  be 
bent  by  external  force,  but  not  broken,  and  that  its  fine 
and  innumerable  roots  He  hidden  so  deep,  that  their  silent 
activity  is  wholly  withdrawn  from  the  will  of  men. 

The  history  of  nations  informs  us  of  the  fruitless  efforts 
of  political  and  theological  powers  to  perpetuate  slavery, 
corporeal  and  intellectual :  future  history  will  describe  the 
victories  of  freedom  which  men  achieved  through  investi- 
gation of  the  ground  of  things  and  of  truth — victories  won 
with  bloodless  weapons,  and  in  a  struggle  wherein  morals 
and  religion  participated  only  as  feeble  allies. 


OBSERVATIONS   ON   THE  SCIENTIFIC 
STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


A   LECTURE    DELIVERED   BEFORE   THE   LONDON 
COLLEGE   OF   PRECEPTORS. 

BY 

EDWARD  L.  YOUMANS,  M.D. 


**  No  t>'8tcm  or  rule  of  practice  in  education  can  safely  be  admitted  whirb 
does  uot  associate  itself  with  this  part  of  science  (physioloey).** 

Sia  Henry  Holland. 

**  It  rt  be  possible  to  perfect  mankind,  the  means  of  doing  so  will  be  found 
n  the  medical  sciences.**  DtscAKTn. 

*♦  Of  old  it  was  the  fashion  to  try  to  explain  nature  from  a  very  incomplete 
k'lowledge  of  man ;  but  it  is  the  certain  tendency  of  advancing  science  to  ex< 
(tLiin  man  on  the  htuB  of  a  perfecting  knowledge  of  nature." 

Dh    Hbniy  MAonuxT. 


ON  THE  SCIENTIFIC  STUDY  OF 
HUMAN  NATURE. 


Perhaps  the  most  eorrect  conception  of  science  that 
has  yet  been  formed  is  that  which  regards  it  as  the 
highest  stage  of  growing  knowledge.  Ideas  about  men, 
like  those  about  other  subjects,  undergo  development. 
There  is  a  rude  acquaintance  with  human  nature  among 
barbarians :  they  observe  that  the  young  can  be  trained, 
and  that  men  are  influenced  by  motives  and  passions ; 
for  without  some  such  knowledge,  their  limited  social 
relations  would  be  impossible.  These  primitive  notions 
have  been  gradually  unfolded  by  time  into  the  com- 
pleter and  more  accurate  ideas  which  mark  the  civilized 
state.  Yet  the  prevailing  knowledge  of  human  nature 
is  still  imperfect  and  empirical — that  is,  it  has  not  ex- 
panded into  rational  principles  and  general  laws.  That  it 
will  become  still  more  perfect  accords  with  all  analogy; 
and  if  this  process  continues,  as  it  undoubtedly  must, 
there  seems  reasonable  hope  of  the  formation  of  some- 
thing like  a  definite  Science  of  Human  Nature. 

That  the  scientific  method  of  inquiry  is  inadequate 
and  inapplicable  to  the  higher  study  of  man,  is  a  widely 
prevalent  notion,  and  one  which  seems,  to  a  great  extent, 
to  be  shared  alike  by  the  ignorant  and  the  educated. 
Holding   the    crude    idea     that    science    pertains    only   to 


374  OBSERVATIONS  ON   THE 

the  material  world,  they  denounce  all  attempts  to  make 
human  nature  a  subject  of  strict  scientific  inquiry,  as  an 
intrusion  into  an  illegitimate  sphere.  Maintaining  that 
man's  position  is  supreme  and  exceptional,  they  insist 
that  he  is  only  to  be  comprehended,  if  at  all,  in  some 
partial,  peculiar,  and  transcendental  way.  In  entire  con- 
sistence with  this  hypothesis,  is  the  prevailing  practice ; 
for  those  who  by  their  function  as  teachers,  preachers, 
and  lawgivers,  profess  to  have  that  knowledge  of  man 
which  best  qualifies  for  directing  him  in  all  relations,  are, 
as  a  class,  confessedly  ignorant  of  science.  There  are, 
some,  however,  and  happily  their  number  is  increasing, 
who  hold  that  this  idea  is  profoundly  erroneous,  that 
the  very  term  "  human  nature,"  indicates  man's  place  in 
that  universal  order  which  it  is  the  proper  office  of 
science  to  explore ;  and  they  accordingly  maintain  that 
it  is  only  as  "  the  servant  and  interpreter  of  nature  "  that 
he  can  rise  to  anything  like  a  true  understanding  of 
himself. 

The  past  progress  of  knowledge,  as  is  well  known* 
has  not  been  a  steady  and  continuous  growth :  it  has 
advanced  by  epochs.  An  interval  of  apparent  rest, 
perhaps  long  protracted,  is  brought  to  a  close  by  the 
introduction  of  some  new  conception,  which  revolu- 
tionizes a  department  of  thought,  and  opens  new  fields 
of  investigation,  that  lead  to  uncalculated  consequences. 
Those  who  have  watched  the  later  tendencies  of  scien- 
tific thought  can  hardly  fail  to  perceive,  that  we  of 
the  present  age  are  entering  upon  one  of  those  great 
epochs  in  our  knowledge  of  man.  Standing  at  the  head 
of  the  vast  system  of  being  of  which  he  forms  a  part,  it 
is  inevitable  that  the  views  entertained  concerning  him 
at  any  age  will  be  but  a  reflex  of  the  knowledge  of 


^eA 


SCIENTIFIC   STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.         375 

nature  which  that  age  has  reached.  So  long  as  Httic* 
was  known  of  the  order  of  the  universe,  Httle  could  be 
understood  of  him  in  whom  that  order  culminates. 
Those  triumphs  of  science  which  are  embodied  in  ex- 
ternal civilization  are  well  fitted  to  kindle  our  admira- 
tion ;  but  they  are  of  secondary  moment  when  compared 
with  the  consequences' which  must  flow  from  the  full 
application  of  the  scientific  method  to  the  study  of  man 
himself. 

The  method  of  regarding  man  which  tradition  has 
transmitted  to  us  from  the  earliest  ages,  is,  at  the  out- 
set, to  cleave  him  astmder,  and  substitute  the  idea  of 
two  beings  for  the  reality  of  one.  Having  thus  intro- 
duced the  notion  of  his  double  nature — mind  and  body 
as  separate,  independent  existences — there  grew  up  a 
series  of  moral  contrasts  between  the  disjointed  pro- 
ducts. The  mind  was  ranked  as  the  higher,  or  spiritual 
nature,  the  body  as  the  lower,  or  material  nature.  The 
mind  was  said  to  be  pure,  aspiring,  immaterial ;  the 
body  gross,  corrupt,  and  perishable  ;  and  thus  the  feel- 
ings became  enlisted  to  widen  the  breach  and  perpetuate 
the  antagonism.  Having  divided  him  into  two  alien 
entities,  and  sought  all  terms  of  applause  to  celebrate 
the  one,  while  exhausting  the  vocabulary  of  reproach 
upon  the  other,  the  fragments  were  given  over  to  two 
parties — the  body  to  the  doctors  of  medicine,  and  the 
spirit  to  the  doctors  of  philosophy,  who  seem  to  have 
agreed  in  but  one  thing,  that  the  partition  shall  be 
eternal,  and  that  neither  shall  ever  intrude  into  tlie 
domain  of  the  other. 

As  a  necessar}'-  consequence  of  this  rupture,  the  living 
reality,  as  a  subject  of  study,  disappeared  from  view, 
and  the  Signified  fraction  was  substituted  in  its  place. 


37^  OBSERVATIONS  UN    THE 

Not  inatty  but  mind,  became  the  object  of  inquiry.  With 
the  disappearance  of  the  actual  being,  went  also  the 
conception  of  individuality,  and  there  remained  only 
fniud  as  an  abstraction,  to  be  considered  as  literally  out 
of  all  true  relations  as  if  the  material  universe  had  never 
existed.  The  method  thus  begun  has  been  closely 
pursued,  and  for  thousands  of  years  the  chief  occupa- 
tion of  philosophic  thought  has  been  to  speculate  upon 
the  nature  and  operations  of  mind  as  manifested  in  con- 
sciousness. Admitting  the  legitimacy  of  the  inquiry,  and 
that  it  has  to  a  certain  extent  yielded  valid  results,  it  is 
clear  that  the  effect  of  the  divorce  was  fatally  to  narrow 
the  course  of  investigation  and  to  prevent  all  free  and 
thorough  research  into  the  reality  of  the  case  ;  thus 
justifying  the  charge  of  emptiness  and  fruitlessness 
which  is  now  so  extensively  made  against  metaphysical 
studies.  From  Plato  to  Sir  William  Hamilton,  who  in- 
scribed upon  the  walls  of  his  lecture-room,  "  On  earth 
tliere  is  nothing  great  but  man ;  in  man  tJiere  is  nothing 
great  but  mind"  a  method  has  been  pursued  so  con- 
fessedly vacant  of  valuable  results,  that  its  partizans 
have  actually  denied  the  attainment  of  truth  to  be  their 
object :  declaring  that  the  supreme  aim  of  philosophy 
is  nothing  more  than  to  serve  as  a  means  of  intellectual 
gymnastics.* 

In  pointed  contrast  with  this  view  is  the  method  of 
modern  science.  In  a  spirit  of  reverence  for  the  order 
and  harmony  of  nature  where  all  factitious  distinctions  o{ 
great  and  small  disappear;  striving  to  dispossess  herself 
of  prejudice,  and  to  aim  only  at  the  attainment  of  truth  ; 
rejecting  all  assumptions  which  can  show  no  better  war- 
rant than  that  they  were  made  in  the  infancy  of  the 
*  Scr  the  opening  lectures  of  Hamilton's  Metaphysics. 


SCIENTIFIC  STUDY  OF   HUMAN   NATURE.         377 

race,  she  begins  with  the  simple  examination  of  facts, 
and  rises  patiently  and  cautiously  to  the  knowledge  of 
principles.  The  study  of  man  is  entered  upon  in  the 
same  temper,  and  by  the  same  methods,  that  have  con- 
ducted to  truth  in  other  departments  of  investigation. 
Finding  the  notion  of  his  duality,  as  interpreted  in  the 
past,  with  its  resulting  double  series  of  independent  in- 
quiries, to  be  erroneous,  science  proceeds  at  the  outset 
to  reunite  the  dissevered  fragments  of  humanity,  and  to 
reconstitute  the  individual  in  thought  as  he  is  in  life,  a 
concrete  unit — the  living,  thinking,  acting  being  which 
we  encounter  in  daily  experience.  It  is  now  established 
that  the  dependence  of  thought  upon  organic  conditions 
is  so  intimate  and  absolute,  that  they  can  no  longer  be 
considered  except  as  unity.  Man,  as  a  problem  of  study, 
is  simply  an  organism  of  varied  powers  and  activities ; 
and  the  true  office  of  scientific  inquiry  is  to  determine 
the  mechanism,  modes,  and  laws  of  its  action. 

My  purpose,  on  the  present  occasion,  is  to  show  that 
the  doctrine  which  has  prevailed  in  the  past,  and  still 
prevails,  is  doomed  to  complete  inversion ;  that  the 
bodily  organism  which  was  so  long  neglected  as  of  no 
account,  is  in  reality  the  first  and  fundamental  thing  to 
be  considered ;  and  that,  in  reaching  a  knowledge  of 
mind  and  character  through  the  study  of  the  corporeal 
system,  there  has  been  laid  the  firm  foundation  of  that 
Science  of  Human  Nature,  the  completion  of  which  will 
constitute  the  next  and  highest  phase  in  the  progress  of 
man.  Of  course,  so  vast  a  subject  can  receive  but  scanty 
justice  in  the  limits  of  a  lecture :  the  utmost  that  I  can 
hope  to  do  will  be  to  present  some  decisive  illustra- 
tions of  the  dependence  of  mental  action  upon  the  bodily 
system,  and  to  point  out  certain  important  results  whicli 


37^  OBSERVATIONS   ON    THE 

have  been  already  arrived  at  by  this  method  of  inquiry. 
A  hasty  glance,  in  the  first  place,  at  the  several  steps  by 
which  it  has  been  reached,  will  help  to  an  understanding 
of  the  present  state  of  knowledge  upon  the  subject. 

The  establishment  of  the  modem  doctrine,  that  the 
brain  is  the  organ  of  the  mind,  naturally  led  to  a  train 
of  researches  into  the  conditions  of  the  connexion.  The 
instrument  of  thought,  being  a  part  of  the  living  system, 
is,  of  course,  subject  to  its  laws,  and  our  understanding  of 
its  action  becomes  dependent  upon  the  progress  of  phy- 
siological knowledge.  Physiology,  again,  depending  upon 
the  various  physical  sciences,  the  higher  investigation 
could  proceed  only  with  the  general  advance  of  inquiry. 
The  discovery  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood  laid  the 
foundation  for  the  modern  science  of  physiology ;  but 
that  discovery  did  not  reach  its  full  significance  until 
chemistry  had  revealed  the  constitution  of  matter,  and 
the  reciprocal  action  of  its  elements :  only  then  was  it 
possible  to  arrive  at  the  great  organic  laws  of  waste 
and  repair,  of  digestion,  nutrition,  and  respiration.  The 
brain,  in  its  functional  exercise,  was  found  to  depend, 
equally  with  all  other  living  parts,  upon  these  processes. 
The  discovery  of  the  minuter  structure  of  the  brain 
resulted  from  the  application  of  the  perfected  micro- 
scope. Its  grey  matter  was  found  to  consist  of  cells, 
and  the  white  substance  of  fibres  of  amazing  minuteness 
— the  cells  being  regarded  as  the  sources  of  nerve- 
power,  while  the  fibres  serve  as  lines  for  its  discharge. 

When  a  tolerably  clear  conception  of  the  structure  of 
the  ner\'ous  system  had  been  reached,  physiology  imme- 
diately propounded  the  question  of  its  mode  of  action. 
The  first  decisive  response  was  made  a  number  of  years 
ago,  by  Sir  Charles  Bell,  who  found  that  there  arc  two 


SCIENTIFIC  STUDY   OF   HUMAN    NATURE.        379 

great  systems  of  nerves,  which  perform  different  functions  ; 
one  conveying  impressions  from  the  surface  of  the  body 
to  the  centres,  and  another  transmitting  impulses  from 
the  centres  to  the  muscles,  and  thus  controlling  me- 
chanical movement.  This  discovery  was  of  the  gravest 
importance.  It  had  been  contemptuously  asked.  What 
has  anatomy  to  do  with  mind  ?  Bell  silenced  this  cavil- 
ling for  ever  by  showing  that  it  first  revealed  a  definite 
mental  mechanism,  and  traced  out  some  of  the  funda- 
mental conditions  of  the  working  of  mind. 

A  few  years  later,  Dr.  Marshall  Hall  made  another 
ver}^  important  step,  in  determining  the  organic  condi- 
tions of  mental  activity,  by  the  discovery  of  the  inde- 
pendent action  of  the  spinal  cord.  It  had  hitherto 
been  held,  that  the  brain  was  the  sole  seat  of  nervous 
power.  All  impressions  were  supposed  to  be  conducted 
directly  to  it,  and  all  mandates  to  the  muscles  to  issue 
from  it ;  and  as  the  brain  was  the  seat  of  consciousness 
and  volition,  these  operations  were  thought  to  be  essen- 
tially involved  in  every  bodily  action.  But  Dr.  Hall 
demonstrated  that  the  spinal  cord  is  itself  a  chain  of 
nerve-centres,  and  that  impressions  reaching  it  from  the 
surface  through  the  sensory  nerves,  may  be  immediately 
reflected  back,  through  the  motor  nerves,  upon  the 
muscles,  thus  producing  bodily  movements,  without  the 
brain  being  at  all  involved.  This  is  termed  reflex  action. 
Thus,  if  the  foot  of  a  sleeper  be  tickled,  it  will  be  jerked 
.v\ay  —that  is,  the  impression  from  the  skin  is  conveyed 
to  the  spinal  centre,  and  an  impulse  is  immediately 
reflected  back,  which  contracts  the  proper  muscles  of 
the  limbs,  and  the  foot  is  withdrawn.  The  most  perfect 
example  of  it,  however,  is  where  stimulus  at  the  surface 
produces  movements  of  the  limbs  after  division  of  the 


380  OBSERVATIONS  ON   THE 

cord  from  the  head,  and  therefore  in  total  unconscious- 
ness. The  discovery  of  reflex  action  was  the  first  step 
in  the  systematic  elucidation  of  the  spontaneous  move- 
ments, or  what  is  known  as  the  automatic  system  in 
animal  mechanisms. 

But  reflex  action  has  another  aspect.  When  an  im- 
pression passes  upward  along  the  cord  to  the  nervous 
masses  at  the  base  of  the  brain,  it  first  flashes  into  con- 
scTiousness  and  becomes  a  sensation.  Reflex  efiects  now 
take  place,  in  which  sensation  and  consciousness  are 
implicated.  Winking,  sneezing,  coughing,  swallowing, 
are  examples :  we  are  conscious  of  the  actions,  but  they 
are  not  the  results  of  volition.  The  will  may,  indeed, 
exert  a  partial  control  over  them,  but  they  are  usually  of 
an  automatic  character.  Thus  far,  the  part  of  the  nervous 
mechanism  called  into  action  is  the  spinal  system,  and 
the  ganglionic  masses  at  the  base  of  the  brain  known  as 
the  .scnsorium.  This  apparatus  is  not  peculiar  to  man  ; 
he  shares  it  with  the  entire  vertebrate  series,  and  it  is 
regarded  as  the  source  of  all  purely  instinctive  actions. 

The  establishment  of  these  fundamental  facts  in  re- 
fr.-rence  to  the  working  of  the  mental  mechanism  of  our 
nature — the  definite  separation  of  a  large  part  of  its 
actions  from  that  higher  sphere  of  intellection  and  voli- 
tion to  which  ^hty  had  hitherto  been  assigned,  was  a 
signal  event  in  the  progress  of  physiological  inquiry, 
aa  it  quickly  led  to  the  extension  of  the  principle  of 
automatism,  to  the  cerebrum  itself.  This  portion  of  the 
brain  is  now  regarded  as  the  organ  of  all  the  higher 
mental  activities  ;— the  seat  of  ideas  and  of  the  complex 
intellectual  operations,  memory,  imagination,  reason, 
volition.  The  most  obvious  case  of  reflex  cerebral  action 
18  where  a  remembered  or  suggested  idea  produces  a 


SCIENTIFIC   STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.  38 1 

spontaneous  movement.  Thus,  the  recollection  of  a 
ludicrous  incident  may  excite  an  involuntary  burst  of 
laughter,  the  remembrance  of  a  disgusting  taste  may 
cause  vomiting.  When  ideas  are  associated  with  pleasure 
or  pain,  a  class  of  powerful  feelings  is  produced, — the 
emotions,  which  become  the  springs  of  impulsion,  or 
reflex  activity.  Those  bursts  of  movement  which  are 
peculiar  to  the  various  emotions,  as  anger,  terror,  joy, 
and  which  we  term  their  expressions,  are  examples  of 
cerebral  spontaneity. 

These  facts  prepare  us  to  understand  the  scope  and 
limits  of  voluntary  activity,  the  function  of  which  is  to 
restrain  the  impulsive  tendencies,  and  direct  the  bodily 
movements  to  various  ends.  In  voluntary  action  the  will 
does  not  replace  or  dispense  with  the  involuntary  system, 
out  rather  uses  it.  Its  action  is  limited  by  the  laws  of' 
the  vital  mechanism  with  which  it  works.  Of  all  the 
numberless  movements  going  on  in  the  organism,  voli- 
tion has  control  only  of  the  muscular,  and  of  these 
but  partially.  It  cannot  act  directly  upon  the  muscles, 
but  liberates  nerve-force  in  the  brain,  which,  in  turn, 
produces  muscular  contraction.  The  voluntary  powers 
determine  the  end  to  be  accomplished  ;  and  employ  the 
automatic  system  to  execute  the  determination.  I  will 
a  given  action,  and  of  the  many  hundred  muscles  in  my 
system,  a  certain,  and  perhaps  a  large  number,  will  be 
called  into  simultaneous  exercise,  requiring  the  most 
marvellous  combinations  of  separate  actions  to  accom- 
plish it ;  but  the  will  knows  nothing  of  this,  it  is  con- 
cerned with  the  result  alone. 

In  the  formation  of  habits  and  in  the  processes  of 
education,  voluntary  actions  are  constantly  becoming 
reflex,  or,  as  it  is  termed,  "  secondarily  automatic."    Thus 


382  OBSERVATIONS   ON   THh 

learning  to  walk  at  first  demands  voluntary  effort,  but 
at  length  the  act  of  walking  becomes  automatic  and 
unconscious.  So  with  all  adaptive  movements,  as  th2 
manipulatory  exercises  of  the  arts ;  they  at  first  req\iire 
an  effort  of  will,  and  then  gradually  become  "mechani- 
cal," or  are  performed  with  but  slight  voluntary  exertion. 
And  so  it  is,  also,  in  the  purely  intellectual  operations, 
where  the  cerebral  excitement,  instead  of  taking  effect 
upon  the  motor  system,  expends  itself  in  the  production 
of  new  intellectual  effects,  one  state  of  consciousness 
passing  into  another,  according  to  the  established  laws  of 
thought.  Here,  also,  the  agency  of  the  will  is  but  partial, 
and  the  mental  actions  are  largely  spontaneous.  In  the 
case  of  memory,  we  all  know  how  little  volition  can 
directly  effect.  We  cannot  call  up  an  idea  by  simply 
willing  it.  When  we  try  to  remember  something,  which 
is,  of  course,  out  of  consciousness,  the  office  of  volitjon  is 
simply  to  fix  the  attention  upon  various  ideas  which 
will  be  most  likely  to  recall,  by  the  law  of  association, 
the  thing  desired.  We  have  all  experienced  this  impo- 
tence of  the  will  to  recover  a  forgotten  name,  or  incident 
which  may  subsequently  flash  into  consciousness  after 
the  attention  has  long  been  withdrawn  from  the  searcn. 
The  same  thing  is  observed  in  the  exercise  of  the  imagi- 
nation. It  is  said  of  eminent  poets,  painters,  and  musi- 
cians, that  they  are  bom,  and  not  made ;  that  is,  their 
genius  is  an  endowment  of  nature, — a  gifted  organism 
which  spontaneously  utters  itself  in  high  achievements, 
and  they  often  present  cases  of  remarkable  automatism. 
When  Mozart  was  asked  how  he  set  to  work  to  com- 
pose a  symphony  he  replied,  "  If  you  once  think  how 
you  are  to  do  it,  you  will  never  write  anything  worth 
hearing;  I  write  because  I  cannot  help  it."     Jean  Pj^uI 


SCIENTIFIC   STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.         383 

remarks  of  the  poet's  work :  "  The  character  must 
appear  living  before  you,  and  you  must  hear  it,  not 
merely  see  it ;  it  must,  as  takes  place  in  dreams,  dictate 
to  you,  not  you  to  it.  A  poet  who  must  reflect  whether, 
in  a  given  case,  he  will  make  his  character  say  Yes,  or 
No,  to  the  devil  with  him!"  An  author  may  be  as  much 
astonished  at  the  brilliancy  of  his  unwilled  inspirations 
as  his  most  partial  reader.  "  That's  splendid  !  "  exclaimed 
Thackeray,  as  he  struck  the  table  in  admiring  surprise 
at  the  utterance  of  one  of  his  characters  in  the  story  he 
was  writing.  Again,  the  mental  actions  which  constitute 
reasoning,  have  an  undoubted  spontaneous  element,  the 
office  of  volition  being,  as  in  the  former  cases,  to  rivet 
the  attention  to  the  subject  of  inquiry,  while  the  gradual 
blending  of  the  like  in  different  ideas  into  general  con- 
ceptions is  the  work  of  the  involuntary  faculties.  You 
cannot  will  a  logical  conclusion,  but  only  maintain 
steadily  before  the  mind  the  problem  to  be  solved. 
Sir  Isaac  Newton  thus  discloses  the  secret  of  his  im- 
mortal discoveries :  "  I  keep  the  subject  constantly 
before  me,  and  wait  till  the  first  dawnings  open,  by 
little  and  little,  into  a  full  light." 

But  corporeal  agency  in  processes  of  thought  has  an 
aspect  still  more  marked  ;  the  higher  intellectual  opera- 
tions may  take  place,  not  only  independent  of  the 
will,  but  also  independent  of  consciousness  itself  Con- 
sciousness and  mind  are  far  from  being  one  and  the 
same  thing.  The  former  applies  only  to  that  which  is 
at  any  time  present  in  thought ;  the  latter  comprehends 
all  psychical  activity.  Not  a  thousandth  part  of  our 
knowledge  is  at  any  time  in  consciousness,  but  it  is  all 
and  always  in  the  mind.  An  idea  or  feeling  passes  out  of 
consciousness,  but  not  into  annihilation ;  in  what  state, 


384  OBSERVATIONS  ON   THE 

then,  is  it  ?  We  cannot  be  satisfied  with  the  indefinite 
statement,  that  it  is  stored  away  in  the  receptacle  or 
chamber  of  memory.  Science  affirms  an  organ  of  mind, 
and  demands  an  explanation,  in  terms  of  its  action.  As 
the  thought  passes  from  consciousness,  something  re- 
mains in  the  cerebral  substratum,  call  it  what  you  will, 
— trace,  impression,  residue.  What  the  precise  character 
of  these  residua  may  be,  is  perhaps  questionable,  but 
it  is  impossible  to  deny  their  existence  in  some  form 
consistent  with  the  nature  of  the  cerebral  structure 
and  activity.  All  thoughts,  feelings,  and  impressions, 
when  disappearing  from  consciousness,  leave  behind 
them  in  the  nerve  substance,  their  effects  or  residua, 
and  in  this  state  they  constitute  what  may  be  termed 
latent  or  statical  mind.  They  are  brought  into  consci- 
ousness by  the  laws  of  association,  and  there  is  much 
probability  that,  in  this  unconscious  state,  they  are  still 
capable  of  acting  and  reacting,  and  of  working  out  true 
intellectual  results. 

There  are  few  who  have  not  had  experience  of  this 
unconscious  working  of  the  mind.  It  often  happens  that 
we  pursue  a  subject  until  arrested  by  difficulties  which 
we  cannot  conquer,  when,  after  dismissing  it  entirely 
from  the  thoughts  for  a  considerable  interval,  and  then 
taking  it  up  again,  the  obscurity  and  confusion  are  found 
to  have  cleared  away,  the  subject  is  opened  in  quite  new 
relations,  and  marked  intellectual  progress  has  been 
made.  Nor  can  we  explain  this  by  assuming  that  the 
arrest  was  simply  due  to  weariness,  and  the  clearer  in- 
sight to  the  restoration  of  vigour  by  rest,  as  after  a 
refreshing  night's  sleep.  Time  enters  largely  as  an 
element  of  the  case ;  weeks  and  months  are  often  re- 
quired  to  produce   the   result,  while  the   entirely  new 


SCIENTIFIC  STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.  385 

development  which  the  subject  is  found  to  have  under- 
gone, seems  only  explicable  by  the  intermediate  and 
unconscious  activity  of  the  cerebral  centre.  The  brain 
also  receives  impressions  and  accumulates  residua  in 
partial  or  total  unconsciousness.  In  reading,  for  ex- 
ample, we  gather  the  sense  of  an  author  most  perfectly 
while  almost  oblivious  of  the  separate  words.  And  thus, 
as  Dr.  Maudsley  remarks,  "  the  brain  not  only  receives 
impressions  unconsciously,  registers  impressions,  without 
the  co-operation  of  consciousness,  elaborates  material 
unconsciously,  calls  latent  residua  again  into  activity, 
without  consciousness,  but  it  responds  also  as  an  organ 
of  organic  life  to  the  internal  stimuli,  which  it  receives 
unconsciously  from  other  organs  of  the  body."  * 

Science  now  teaches  that  we  know  nothing  of  mental 
action,  except  through  nervous  action,  without  which 
there  is  neither  thought,  recollection,  nor  reason.  An 
eminent  authority  upon  this  subject,  Dr.  Bucknill,  says, 
"  The  activity  of  the  vesicular  neurine  of  the  brain  is  the 
occasion  of  all  these  capabilities.  The  little  cells  are  the 
agents  of  all  that  is  called  mind,  of  all  our  sensations, 
thoughts,  and  desires;  and  the  growth  and  renovation 
of  these  cells  are  the  most  ultimate  conditions  of  mind 
with  which  we  are  acquainted."  And  again,  "Not  a  thrill 
of  sensation  can  occur,  not  a  flashing  thought,  or  a  pass- 
ing feeling  can  take  place  without  a  change  in  the  living 
organism,  much  less  can  diseased  sensation,  thought,  or 
feeling  occur  without  such  changes." 

These  facts  sufficiently  disclose  the  agency  of  the 
bodily  system  in  carrying  on  mental  action ;  but  the 
view  becomes  still  more  impressive  when  we  observe  to 

*  The  Physiology  and  Pathology  of  Mind,  by  Dr.  Maudsley,  p.  20. 


386  OBSERVATIONS   ON  IHE 

what  an  extent  corporeal  conditions  influence  and  de- 
termine intellectual  states. 

The  weight  of  the  human  brain  ranges  from  sixty-four 
ounces  to  twenty  ounces,  and,  other  things  being  equal, 
the  scale  of  intellectual  power  is  held  to  correspond  with 
its  mass.  Cerebral  action  has  thus  an  enormous  range 
of  limitation,  due  to  the  variable  volume  of  the  mental 
organ,  but  it  is  also  modified  in  numerous  ways  and 
numberless  degrees  by  accompanying  physiological  con- 
ditions. The  brain  is  an  organ  of  power  ;  power  depends 
upon  change,  and  change  upon  circulation  ;  the  lungs 
and  heart  are,  therefore,  immediately  involved.  To  high 
and  sustained  mental  power,  ample  lungs  and  a  vigorous 
heart  are  essential.  And  these  organs,  again,  fall  back 
upon  the  digestive  apparatus,  which,  if  feeble,  may  im- 
pair the  capacity  of  a  good  heart,  sound  lungs,  and  a 
well-constituted  brain.  Digestion,  and  even  the  caprice 
of  appetite,  thus  stand  in  direct  dynamic  relation  to 
intellectual  results. 

As  the  brain  is  more  largely  dependent  than  any  other 
organ  upon  the  torrent  of  blood  which  pours  through 
it,  we  find  that  even  a  transient  variation  in  the  supply 
disturbs  the  course  of  thought.  If  a  portion  of  the  skull 
is  removed,  and  pressure  be  made  upon  the  brain, 
consciousness  disappears,  and  the  same  thing  occurs 
in  fainting,  from  suspension  of  the  circulation.  With 
invigorated  action  of  the  heart,  there  is  a  general  exalta- 
tion of  the  mental  powers,  while  an  enfeebled  circulation 
depresses  meotal  activity.  Apoplectic  congestion  pro- 
duces stupor  and  insensibility  ;  inflammation  of  the  grey 
substance  causes  delirium  ;  while  inflammation  of  the 
fibrous  portion  produces  torpor  and  diminishes  the 
power  of  the  will  over  the  muscles.     In  thus  saying 


SCIENTIFIC   STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.         387 

that  the  state  of  the  blood  influences  the  mind,  we  do 
not  use  the  term  mind  in  any  vague  or  abstract  sense ; 
we  mean  that  it  affects  our  views,  opinions,  feehngs, 
judgments,  actions.  Change  of  circulation  alters  out 
mental  pitch,  and,  with  it,  our  relation  to  the  universe. 
Dr.  Laycock  observes  : — "  In  the  earliest  stage  of  general 
paralysis  there  is  a  feeling  of  energy.  Everything, 
therefore,  appears  hopeful  to  the  patient ;  large  enter- 
prizes,  the  success  of  which  he  never  doubts,  occupy 
his  mind,  and  he  rushes  sometimes  into  the  most  ex- 
travagant and  wasteful  speculations.  This  is  the  stage 
of  erethism  of  the  capillaries  of  the  part  of  the  brain 
affected,  when  it  is  just  sufficient  to  excite  increased 
cerebral  vigour.  If,  however,  from  any  cause,  this 
activity  declines,  so  as  to  sink  below  par,  a  precisely 
opposite  state  of  consciousness  arises,  and  the  patient 
may  fall  into  a  profound  melancholy,  and  be  insanely 
hopeless,  distrustful,  and  anxious  as  to  all  events,  past, 
present,  and  to  come."*  Even  the  variation  in  the 
quantity  of  blood  which  enters  the  brain,  by  simply 
taking  the  recumbent  position,  may  affect  mental  ac- 
tivity in  a  marked  degree.  Persons  who,  through  over- 
exertion of  mind,  have  impaired  the  contractility  of  the 
cerebral  vessels,  often  become  intensely  wakeful  after 
lying  down,  although  very  drowsy  before,  and  some- 
times can  only  sleep  in  the  erect  position.  Dendy 
mentions  the  case  of  an  individual  who,  when  he  retired 
to  rest,  was  constantly  haunted  by  a  spectre,  which 
attempted  to  take  his  life ;  though,  when  he  raised  him- 
self in  bed,  the  phantom  vanished. 

Persons  have  had  their  entire  character  changed  by  an 
apparently  trifling  interference  with  the  circulation  o( 

•  Correlations  of  Consciousness  and  Organization.     Vol.  ii.,  page  325. 


3^8  OBSERVATIONS  ON   THE 

blood  in  the  head.  "  A  person  of  my  acquaintance,* 
says  Dr.  Hammond,  "was  naturally  of  good  disposition, 
amiable,  and  considerate  ,  but  after  an  attack  of  vertigo, 
attended  with  unconsciousness  of  but  a  few  minutes' 
duration,  his  whole  mental  organization  was  changed ; 
he  became  deceitful,  morose,  and  overbearing."  Tukc 
and  Bucknill  mention  the  instance  of  a  conscientious  lady, 
who  recovered  from  the  brain-congestion  accompanying 
small-pox  with  her  disposition  greatly  changed.  The 
susceptibility  of  conscience  had  increased  to  a  state  of 
actual  disease,  di.sturbing  her  happiness,  and  disqualify- 
ing her  for  the  duties  of  life. 

A  blow  on  the  head  may  produce  marked  mental 
derangement.  The  memory  may  be  dislocated,  events 
obliterated,  and  whole  passages  from  the  past  life  ex« 
punged :  the  faculty  of  speech  may  be  partially  or 
wholly  destroyed,  the  memory  of  words  confused,  or 
entire  parts  of  speech  lost. 

Mental  perversions  are  also  caused  by  certain 
changes  in  the  properties  of  the  blood.  A  fluid  of 
amazing  complexity,  holding  in  exquisite  balance  the 
constituents  from  which  the  whole  being  is  elaborated, 
all  delicacies  of  feeling  and  niceties  of  thought  depend 
upon  its  purity.  "  Polished  steel  is  not  quicker  dimmed 
by  the  slightest  breath  than  is  the  brain  affected  by 
some  abnormal  conditions  of  the  blood." 

If  the  poisonous  products  of  bodily  waste  are  not  con- 
ntantly  swept  from  the  system,  the  cerebral  changes  are 
disturbed  and  the  mind  stupified.  Foods,  drinks,  and 
drugs  affect  specifically  the  appetites,  passions,  and 
thoughts.  To  become  exhilarated  and  joyous,  man 
charges  his  blood  with  wine ;  to  exalt  the  sensation^ 
be  takes  hashish ;  to  secure  a  brilliant  fancy  and  luxu- 


SCIENTIFIC   STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NAfoRE.  389 

rious  imagination,  he  uses  opium ;  to  abolish  conscious- 
ness of  pain,  he  breathes  vapour  of  chloroform.  Sweden- 
borg  had  a  peculiar  class  of  visions  "  after  coffee."  "  A. 
person  I  know,"  observes  Dr.  Laycock,  "  after  taking 
morphine,  in  a  fever,  was  haunted  by  hideously  gro- 
tesque and  fiend-like  spectres  ;  they  then  shortly  changed 
into  groups  of  comical  human  faces,  and  finally  altered 
to  forms  of  the  human  figure  of  the  most  classic  beauty, 
and  then  disappeared."  And  this  learned  inquirer  main- 
tains that  the  pictorial  productions  of  the  insane  vary  in 
a  definite  order,  the  early  stages  of  excitement  enabling 
the  artist  to  execute  beautiful  conceptions  of  figures  and 
landscapes ;  then,  as  the  disease  advances,  he  passes 
into  comic  delineations,  and  ends  with  the  grotesque,  or 
hideous. 

Those  fluctuations  of  feeling  with  which  all  are  more 
or  less  familiar,  the  alternations  of  hope  and  despon- 
dency, are  vitally  connected  with  organic  states.  In  high 
health,  the  outlook  is  confident,  there  is  joy  in  action, 
and  courage  in  enterprise  ;  but  with  a  low  or  disturbed 
circulation,  thin,  morbid  blood,  and  bodily  exhaustion, 
there  is  depression  of  spirits,  gloom,  inaction,  paralysis 
of  will,  and  weariness  of  life.  That  variability  of  mental 
state  which  is  so  striking  and  general  an  experience 
with  the  literary  and  artistic  classes,  the  periods  when 
work  is  impossible,  the  moods  of  sluggish  and  unsatis- 
factory effort,  the  seasons  of  steady  and  successful 
accomplishment,  and  the  moments  of  rare  exaltation, 
capricious  as  they  may  seem,  are  but  the  exponents  of 
var)'ing  constitutional  conditions. 

But  the  part  played  by  the  organism  becomes  still  more 
apparent  when  we  consider  the  mode  of  action  of  the 
nervous  system  in  producing  mental  effects.    It  has  been 


39^  OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE 

Stated  that  this  system  is  composed  of  fibres  and  cells ; 
hence  the  simplest  conceivable  case  of  nervous  activity  is 
where  a  cell  and  fibre  become  active,  producing  an  excite- 
ment and  a  discharge ;  the  highest  action  of  the  organ 
being  nothing  more  than  a  complex  system  of  excite- 
ments and  discharges.  In  sleep,  for  example,  a  fly  lights 
upon  the  face,  producing  an  impression,  or  change,  which 
causes  a  discharge  along  the  nerves  to  the  grey  matter 
of  the  spinal  cord.  Here  force  is  again  liberated,  which 
is  discharged  along  another  set  of  nerves  upon  the 
appropriate  muscles,  which,  being  contracted,  bring  the 
hand  to  the  place  where  the  fly  settled.  This  is  the 
course  of  power  in  a  simple  reflex  action.  But  when  the 
brain  is  called  into  conscious  exercise  in  the  higher 
processes  of  intellection  just  the  same  thing  occurs. 
A  person  may  be  engaged  in  tranquil  thinking,  when 
one  idea  leads  on  to  another  in  a  natural  train  of  asso- 
ciation, that  is,  where  the  excitement  of  one  state  of 
consciousness  is  discharged  into  another,  forming  a  suc- 
cession of  cerebral  changes.  In  this  quiet  course  of 
thought,  a  ludicrous  idea,  or  a  witty  combination  may 
arise,  when  a  large  amount  of  feeling,  or  nerve  excite- 
rtient,  is  suddenly  awakened.  This  may  be  discharged 
in  several  directions.  One  portion  may  be  spent  upon 
the  muscles  of  the  face  and  chest,  producing  laughter ; 
another  portion  may  pass  along  the  nerves  leading  to  the 
stomach,  perhaps  stimulating  digestion ;  and  a  third 
may  be  expended  in  producing  other  states  of  con- 
sciousness, or  new  trains  of  ideas.  Mental  action  is  thus 
manifested  as  definite  and  limited  nervous  action,  and 
when  we  speak  of  the  unfolding  of  mind,  as  in  educa- 
tion, the  fact  signified  is  the  growing  adaptation  of  the 
brain  aod  nervous  apparatus  to  produce  more  and  more 


SCIENTIFIC   STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.  39 1 

romplex  effects  in  accordance  with  their  necessary  mode 
of  working. 

The  child  comes  into  the  world  a  little  fountain  of 
spontaneous  power.  For  certain  purposes  its  nervous 
mechanism  is  perfected,  channels  of  discharge  are  open, 
connexions  are  ready  formed,  and  reflex  actions  go  on 
from  the  first.  The  infant  also  inherits  the  capabilities 
of  its  type ;  that  is,  the  possibility  of  high  development 
which  belongs  to  man  as  distinguished  from  inferior 
creatures,  and  it  also  inherits  the  special  tendencies 
and  aptitudes  of  its  particular  ancestors.  The  order 
of  the  surrounding  universe  now  begins  to  take  effect 
upon  it,  and  working  within  its  organic  limits,  which  of 
course  vary  widely  in  different  cases,  its  education 
begins.  Impressions  pour  in  through  the  senses,  and 
begin  to  open  channels  of  discharge  through  the  nerve 
centres.  The  child  sees  and  desires  an  object,  but 
has  more  or  less  difficulty  in  connecting  the  sensation 
with  the  movement  necessary  to  seize  it.  By  numberless 
efforts  a  nervous  path  is  at  length  formed,  and  when  a 
desirable  object  is  seen,  the  sensation  discharges  upon 
the  proper  muscles,  producing  a  suitable  movement,  and 
the  hand  grasps  it.  So  with  walking  and  speaking  ;  by 
repeated  exertions  lines  of  nervous  discharge  are  com- 
pleted, and  the  sensations  involved  are  co-ordinated  with 
the  movements  of  locomotion  and  utterance.  Repetition 
strengthens  association  and  facilitates  action  ;  that  which 
is  difficult  at  first,  requiring  a  large  expenditure  of  volun- 
tary effort,  at  last  seems  "  to  go  of  itself."  Upon  this 
point  Dr.  Carpenter  remarks,  "  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  the  nerve-force  is  disposed  to  pass  in  special  tracks, 
and  it  seems  probable  that  whilst  some  are  originally 
marked  out  for  the  automatic  movements,  others  may  be 

26 


392 


OBSERVATIONS   ON   THE 


gradually  wont  in  by  the  habitual  action  of  the  will,  and 
tha*.  thus  when  a  train  of  sequential  actions  originally 
directed  by  the  will  has  been  once  set  in  operation,  it 
may  continue  without  any  further  influence  from  that 
source."  * 

Thus,  in  committing  to  memory  a  poem,  or  in  learning 
a  piece  of  music,  voluntary  effort  wears  a  path  of  asso- 
ciation, so  that  each  word  or  sound  automatically 
suggests  the  next,  and  we  can  either  repeat  the  words 
or  hum  the  air  in  silence,  or  link  on  the  automatic  move- 
ments of  expression :  but  by  sufficient  repetition  the 
words  and  sounds  become  so  closely  associated,  that 
when  the  first  bar  of  the  melody,  or  the  first  stanza  of 
the  poem  is  awakened,  it  will  cost  an  effort  to  prevent 
running  through  with  them.  In  this  way,  as  the  child 
grows  to  maturity,  brain  connexions  are  established 
between  sensations,  ideas,  and  movements  ;  they  become 
automatic  and  powerful,  and  give  rise  to  fixed  habits. 
Peculiarities  of  gait,  attitude,  gesture,  and  speech,  and 
the  iteration  of .  et  phrases,  become  partially  automatic  ; 
their  paths  of  discharge  getting  so  deeply  worn  that 
repetition  occurs  involuntarily.  The  same  thing  is  seen 
also  in  the  higher  region  of  ideas  and  beliefs.  Long- 
established  associations  and  opinions  survive  their  re- 
jection by  reason :  convince  a  man  of  his  life-long 
errors  to-day  and  he  re-asserts  them  to-morrow,  so 
strong  is  the  tendency  of  thought  to  move  in  its  long- 
accustomed  cerebral  tracks. 

Now,  when  we  experience  a  feeling,  or  think  a  thought, 
or  (letcrmine  an  act,  that  is,  in  every  case  of  excitement 
md   discharge,  there  is  a  partial  decomposition  of  the 

*  i  nncipl<si  of  Iluman  Phy<;in1r)gy.     Fifth  Edition,  pafpe  699. 


SCIENTIFIC   STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.  393 

nervous  structure  in  action.  In  every  such  act  there  is 
loss  of  energy,  or  partial  exhaustion,  the  cells  and  fibres 
fall  below  par,  and  the  equilibrium  is  restored  by  the 
nutrition  of  the  weakened  part.  Brain-repair  thus  takes 
place,  in  accordance  with  the  modes  of  mental  action,  and, 
as  in  the  blacksmith's  arm  muscular  nutrition  is  com- 
mensurate with  its  exercise,  and  augments  power,  so  in 
every  special  kind  of  mental  exercise,  cerebral  nutrition 
co-operates  to  raise  the  standard  of  nervous  power.  As 
waste  accompanies  exercise,  and  repair  follows  waste, 
the  nutrition  of  the  organ  is  determined  by  the  modes 
of  mental  activity — given  associations  and  ideas  become 
patterns,  as  it  were,  in  conformity  to  which  the  brain 
is  moulded.  In  this  way  the  organic  processes  re-inforce 
mental  acquisition,  and  assimilation  tends  to  perpetuate 
states  of  feeling  and  modes  of  thought  and  action. 
Throughout  infancy,  childhood,  and  youth,  when  nutri- 
tion is  in  excess,  the  brain  is  thus  adapted  to  its  cir- 
cumstances, and  grows  to  the  order  of  impressions  and 
ideas  which  it  receives. 

We  have  seen  that  the  office  of  volition  is  to  deter- 
mine the  course  of  thought  and  direct  bodily  actions  to 
specific  ends.  This  capability  is  the  noblest  element  of 
our  nature,  but  is  greatly  variable  in  different  individuals 
by  habit  and  constitution,  and  is  inexorably  limited 
in  all.  The  will  is  not  an  absolute  Despot,  with  un- 
bounded authority  to  do  what  it  lists,  but  rather  a  consti- 
tutional President,  exercising  vast  power,  it  may  be,  but 
strictly  subject  to  the  laws  of  the  organic  state.  Its 
regnant  prerogative,  as  we  have  seen,  is  that  of  control- 
ling the  attention,  by  which  it  is  enabled  to  wield  the 
entire  energy  of  the  organism  to  the  accomplishment  of 
its  purposes.    In  this  way  the  automatic  system  becomes 


394  OBSERVATIONS  ON   THF. 

a  means  of  exalting  the  office  of  volition,  and  making 
it  in  an  eminent  degree  the  arbiter  of  individual  destiny. 
But  in  the  exercise  of  its  prerogative  the  will  is  governed 
by  the  same  great  law  which  rules  all  the  other  powers, 
namely,  the  acq  jirement  of  strength  by  exercise.  Only 
through  that  constant  exertion  by  which  energy  is  accu- 
mulated can  the  will  gain  command  of  the  thoughts  and 
mastery  of  the  impulses.  By  continual  practice  the  or- 
ganism grows,  as  it  were,  into  subordination,  and  the 
voluntary  powers  become  habitually  predominant.  The 
will  is  thus,  in  an  eminent  degree,  capable  of  education, 
but  when  we  see  how  it  is  enfeebled  in  bodily  debility 
and  utterly  extinguished  in  numerous  morbid  states  of 
the  system,  it  becomes  apparent  to  what  an  extent 
physiological  conditions  must  enter  into  the  policy  of 
its  intelligent  management.  Even  its  limited  freedom, 
as  physicians  well  understand,  is  only  coincident  wilh 
healthy  bodily  action. 

Sufficient,  I  trust,  has  now  been  said,  to  show  that 
mental  operations  are  so  inextricably  interwoven  with 
corporeal  actions,  that  to  study  them  successfully  apart 
is  altogether  impossible.  The  mental  life  and  the  bodily 
life  are  manifestations  of  the  same  organism,  growing 
together,  fluctuating  together,  declining  together  They 
depend  upon  common  laws,  which  must  be  investigated 
by  a  common  method  ;  and  science,  in  unravelling  the 
mysteries  of  the  body,  has  thrown  important  light  upon 
the  workings  of  the  mind.  It  only  remains  now  to 
point  out,  that  when  subjected  to  the  Baconian  test  of 
"  fruitfulness  "—of  practical  application  to  the  emergen- 
cies of  experience,  the  scientific  method  of  regarding 
human  nature,  incomplete  as  it  may  be,  already  stands 
in  marked  contrast  to  the  proverbial  barrenness  of  the 


SCIENTIFIC  STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.         395 

old  metaphysics.  I  will  briefly  refer  to  two  or  three 
such  applications. 

One  of  the  gloomiest  chapters  of  man's  social  his- 
tory is  that  which  records  the  treatment  of  the  insane. 
Those  upon  whom  had  fallen  the  heaviest  calamity  pos- 
sible in  life,  were  looked  upon  with  horror,  as  accursed 
of  God,  and  treated  with  a  degree  of  cruelty  which 
seems  now  incredible.  Asylums  were  dark  and  dismal 
jails,  where  their  inmates  were  left  in  cold,  hunger,  and 
filth,  to  be  chained  and  lashed  at  the  caprice  of  savage 
keepers.  And  this  barbarism  continued  in  countries 
claiming  to  be  enlightened  down  to  the  middle  of  the 
present  century.  Let  me  mention  a  solitary  instance,  of 
which  the  literature  of  the  subject  is  full. 

Said  Dr.  Conolly,  in  a  lecture  in  1847:  "  It  was  in  the 
Female  Infirmary  at  Hanwell,  exactly  seven  years  ago, 
that  I  found,  among  other  examples  of  the  forgetfulness 
of  what  was  due  either  to  the  sick  or  insane,  a  young 
woman  lying  in  a  crib,  bound  to  the  middle  of  it  by  a 
strap  around  the  waist,  to  the  sides  of  it  by  the  hands, 
to  the  foot  of  it  by  the  ankles,  and  to  the  head  of  it  by 
the  neck ;  she  also  had  her  hands  in  the  hard  leathern 
terminations  of  canvas  sleeves.  She  could  not  turn,  nor 
lie  on  her  side,  nor  lift  her  hand  to  her  face,  and  her 
appearance  was  miserable  beyond  the  power  of  words  to 
describe.  That  she  was  almost  always  wet  and  dirty,  it  is 
scarcely  necessary  to  say.  But  the  principal  point  I  wish  to 
illustrate  by  mentioning  this  case  is,  that  it  was  a  feeble 
and  sick  woman  who  was  thus  treated.  At  that  very 
lime  her  whole  skin  was  covered  with  neglected  scabies, 
and  she  was  suffering  all  the  torture  of  a  large  and  deep- 
seated  abscess  of  the  breast."  "  Again,"  he  remarks,  "  old 
and  young,  men  and  women,  the  frantic  and  the  mel;in« 


396  OBSERVATIONS  ON   THE 

choly,  were  treated  worse  and  more  neglected  than  the 
beasts  of  the  field.  The  cells  of  an  asylum  resembled  the 
dens  of  a  squalid  menagerie  ;  the  straw  Weis  raked  out, 
and  the  food  was  thrown  in  through  the  bars,  and  exhi- 
bitions of  madness  were  witnessed  which  are  no  longer  to 
be  found,  because  they  were  not  the  simple  product  of 
malady,  but  of  malady  aggravated  by  mis-management." 
Now,  these  statements  represent  a  condition  of  things 
as  old  as  history,  and  we  are  called  upon  to  account 
for  it  Granting  that  the  insane  were  dangerous,  and 
required  restraint,  and  granting  all  that  may  be  urged 
concerning  the  barbarity  of  the  times,  we  have  yet  to 
find  the  cause  of  the  apparently  gratuitous  ferocity  of 
which  they  were  the  victims;  and  this  we  do  find  in 
the  legitimate  consequences  of  the  prevaihng  theory  of 
human  nature.  The  ancient  philosophy  taught  that  the 
body  is  to  be  despised,  degraded,  renounced.  This  view 
was  adopted  by  theology,  and  thrown  into  a  concrete 
and  dramatic  shape,  which  made  it  more  capable  of  vivid 
realization  by  the  multitude.  It  pronounced  the  body 
to  be  "  a  sink  of  iniquity,"  the  "  intrenchment  of  Satan," 
a  fit  residence  for  demons.  The  lunatic  was  one  who  had 
incurred  Divine  displeasure,  and  was  given  over  to  the 
powers  of  darkness,  by  whom  he  was  "  possessed."  This 
doctrine,  of  which  witchcraft  was  one  of  the  develop- 
ments, abundantly  explains  the  attitude  of  society  to- 
wards the  victims  of  mental  disorder.  What  more 
suitable  than  dungeons,  scourgings,  and  tortures  for 
the  detested  wretch,  who  was  thus  manifestly  forsaken 
of  God,  and  delivered  over  to  the  Devil  ?  The  merciless 
brute  who  inflicted  untold  sufferings  upon  these  unhappy 
oeings  deemed  himself,  like  the  Inquisitor,  but  an  instru- 
ment for  executing  the  will  of  Heaven. 


scientific:  study  of  human  nature.       397 

It  availed  nothing  that,  for  thousands  of  years,  there 
liad  been  a  broad  current  of  intense  and  powerful  thought 
in  the  channels  of  poetry,  polemics,  oratory,  philosophy, 
politics,  theology,  and  devotion.  All  this  multifarious 
culture  was  powerless  to  arrest  the  evil  consequences  of 
a  radically  erroneous  view  of  human  nature,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  the  discovery  of  truth  was  not  among 
its  objects.  It  was  only  when  a  class  of  men,  partici- 
pating in  the  new  spirit  of  modern  times,  and  drawn  to 
the  investigation  by  the  necessities  of  their  profession, 
entered  earnestly  upon  the  study  of  the  body,  that  views 
were  reached  which  have  revolutionized  and  humanized 
the  treatment  of  the  insane.  Discovering  that  the  mind 
is  dependent  upon  the  organism,  and  that  its  disordered 
manifestations  are  the  results  of  organic  derangement, 
they  found  that  insanity  is  not  a  devil  to  be  exorcised, 
but  a  disease  to  be  cured.  After  a  sharp  struggle  wkh 
popular  ignorance  and  traditional  prejudice,  the  better 
views  have  triumphed,  and  society  is  beginning  to  reap 
the  beneficent  consequences  of  their  labours:  the  stern 
and  violent  measures,  that  served  but  to  aggravate  the 
malady,  have  given  place  to  gentle  and  kindly  treat- 
ment, which  is  found  to  be  of  itself  a  most  potent  means 
of  restoration. 

The  management  of  the  idiotic,  or  feeble-minded, 
equally  illustrates  the  argument.  Throughout  the  past 
no  movement  was  made  for  the  relief  of  this  wretched 
class,  and  no  one  dreamed  that  anything  could  be  done 
for  them ;  but  the  progress  of  Physiology  has  made  a 
new  revelation  in  this  field  also.  Dr.  Edward  Seguin,  in 
his  recent  able  work  upon  "  The  Treatment  of  Idiocy  by 
the  Physiological  Method,"  observes :  "  Idiots  could  not 
be  educated  by  the  methods,  nor  cured  by  the  treatment, 


39^  OBSERVATIONS  UN   THE 

practised  prior  to  1 837  ;  but  most  idiots,  and  children 
proximate  to  them,  may  be  relieved,  in  a  more  or  less 
complete  measure,  of  their  disabilities  by  the  physiolo- 
gical mode  of  education." 

These  facts  have  a  profound  significance.  They  not 
only  show  that  to  be  practicable  which  the  world  had 
never  suspected  to  be  possible,  and  that  science  is  true 
to  her  beneficent  mission  in  the  higher  sphere  as  well  as 
in  the  lower;  they  not  only  show  that  a  change  of 
method  in  the  study  of  human  nature  ended  some  of 
the  grossest  barbarisms  of  the  past,  but  they  involve  this 
deeper  result — that  by  reaching  a  knowledge  of  the  true 
causes  of  insanity  and  imbecility,  we  gain  command 
of  the  means  of  their  prevention,  and  arrive  at  the 
principles  of  mental  hygiene.  And  this  leads  to  the 
consideration  of  those  wider  consequences  to  society  at 
large  which  the  modern  method  of  inquiry  is  beginning 
to  produce. 

This  is  perhaps  best  illustrated  in  the  establishment 
of  what  may  be  called  the  law  of  mental  limitations. 
The  old  contrast  between  matter  and  mind  led  to  the 
growth  of  an  all-prevalent  error  upon  this  point.  To 
matter  belongs  extension  or  limitation  in  space ;  but 
mind  is  inextended,  and  therefore  it  has  been  inferred 
to  be  unlimited :  being  indefinite,  it  was  supposed  to  be 
unbounded  in  its  nature.  But  force  also  is  inextended, 
although  rigorously  limited  and  measurable;  and  as 
mind  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  mental  power,  it 
must  be  subject  to  the  laws  of  power,  and  work  within 
quantitative  limits,  like  any  other  form  of  force.  Power, 
again,  is  but  the  accompaniment  of  material  change, 
and  is,  hence,  restricted  in  quantity  by  the  amount  of 
tliat  change;  and  as  mind  is  accompanied  by  cerebral 


SCIENTIFIC   STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.         39Q 

transformation,  it  must  have  a  necessary  limit  in  the 
quantity  of  cerebral  transformation.  In,  therefore,  con- 
sidering man  as  a  being  in  whom  mind  is  conditioned 
by  a  bodily  organism,  the  limitation  of  mental  effects 
becomes  a  practical  question  of  the  very  highest  im- 
portance. 

The  doctrine  of  the  conservation  of  energy  and  the 
mutual  convertibility  of  the  various  forces,  is  now  ac- 
cepted as  a  fundamental  truth  of  science.  Nor  is  there 
any  ground  for  regarding  the  vital  forces  as  an  exception 
to  the  principle.  That  the  organism  cannot  create  its 
own  force,  that  its  energy  is  entirely  derived  from  the 
food  ingested,  and  which,  in  this  point  of  view,  is  merely 
stored  force,  is  beyond  question ;  and  the  source  being 
thus  limited,  that  its  expenditure  in  one  direction  makes 
it  impossible  to  use  it  in  another,  is  equally  evident. 
This  principle  applies,  even  in  a  more  marked  degree, 
to  the  cerebral  system.  Every  one  knows  that  hearty 
digestion  and  violent  exercise  lower  the  mental  activity, 
that  is,  the  forces  are  diverted  from  the  brain,  and 
thrown  upon  the  stomach  and  muscles. 

That  the  purely  intellectual  powers  are  also  subject  to 
limitation  is  unquestionable.  All  minds  are  fissured  with 
incapacities  in  one  direction  or  another, — clipped  away 
on  this  side  or  on  that, — all  are  fragmentary.  There 
may  be  great  mathematical  ability,  but  no  imagination ; 
fine  poetical  gifts,  without  logical  faculty ;  large  executive 
power,  coupled  with  deficient  judgment.  Dr.  Whewell 
had  a  powerful  memory  for  books,  but  a  very  bad  one 
for  persons  ;  Sir  William  Hamilton  cultivated  the  lore 
and  history  of  philosophy,  at  the  expense  of  his  power  of 
origination  and  organization;  Prescott  was  so  irresolute 
that  he   could  only  spur  himself  to  his  literary  tasks 


400  OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE 

by  the  stimulus  of  betting  with  his  secretary  that 
he  would  do  a  certain  amount  of  work  in  a  given 
time;  Theodore  Parker  was  loaded  with  erudition, 
but  eicclaimed  on  his  premature  death-bed,  "  Oh,  thai 
I  had  known  the  art  of  life,  or  found  some  book, 
or  some  man  tc  tell  me  how  to  live,  to  study,  to  take 
exercise."  The  greatest  men  are  all  dunces  in  some- 
thing :  Shakspeare  and  Newton  illustrate  the  law  as 
absolutely  as  the  veriest  weakling  of  the  asylum.  The 
full-orbed  intellect  is  yet  to  come,  and  will  doubtless 
bring  with  it  the  "perpetual  motion,"  and  the  Jew's 
**  Messias." 

These  phenomena  find  no  explanation  in  the  old 
hypothesis  of  mind  as  a  vague,  spiritual  entity;  they 
throw  us  back  immediately  on  the  organism  whose  ac- 
knowledged limitations  offer  at  once  a  solution  of  the 
mystery.  These  mental  inaptitudes  may  be  either  or- 
ganic deficiencies,  or  a  result  of  concentrating  the  cerebral 
energy  in  certain  directions,  and  its  consequent  with- 
drawal from  others.  Thus  viewed,  every  attainment 
involves  the  exercise  of  brain-power — each  acquisition 
is  a  modification  of  cerebral  structure.  All  sensations 
of  objects  and  words  that  we  remember,  all  acquired 
aptitudes  of  movement ;  the  associations  of  the  percep- 
tion of  things  with  visible  symbols,  vocal  actions  and 
sounds,  the  connexions  of  ideas  with  feelings  and 
emotions,  and  the  formation  of  intellectual  and  moral 
habits,  are  all  concomitants  and  consequents  of  the  only 
kind  of  action  of  which  the  brain  is  capable — are  all 
the  products  of  organic  nutrition ;  and  the  rate  and 
limit  of  acquisition,  as  well  as  the  capacity  foi  reten- 
tion, are  conditioned  upon  the  completeness  of  the 
nutritive  processes.      As  each  acquirement   involve*  a 


SCIENTIFIC   STUDY   OF    HUMAN   NATURE.         40I 

growth,  it  is  evident  that  acquisition  may  reach  a  point 
at  which  the  whole  organic  force  is  consumed  in  con- 
serving it,  and  further  attainments  can  only  be  made  at 
the  expense  of  the  decay  and  loss  of  old  ones.  Hence, 
if  we  overburden  the  brain,  as  in  school-"  cramming," 
nutrition  is  imperfect,  adhesion  feeble,  and  acquisition 
quickly  lost. 

The  one  great  physiological  law  upon  which  bodily 
and  mental  health  are  alike  dependent,  is  the  alternation 
of  action  and  repose  which  results  from  the  limitation 
of  power.  The  eternal  equation  of  vital  vigour  is,  rest 
equals  exercise.  That  tendency  to  rhythmic  action,  which 
seems  to  mark  all  displays  of  power  in  the  universe,  is 
conspicuously  manifested  in  the  organic  economy,  allow- 
ing the  muscles  of  respiration  eight  hours'  repose  out  of 
twenty-four,  and  six  hours'  rest  to  those  of  the  heart 
The  cerebral  rhythm  is  diurnal :  except  that  rest  which 
parts  of  the  brain  may  obtain  when  only  other  parts  are 
in  action,  the  organ  finds  its  appropriate  repose  in  sleep. 
"  Half  our  days  we  spend  in  the  shadow  of  the  earth, 
and  the  brother  of  death  extracteth  a  third  part  of  our 
lives,"  says  the  eloquent  Sir  Thomas  Browne ;  that  is, 
the  periodicities  of  cerebral  action  are  defined  by  astro- 
nomic cycles  ;  the  brain  and  the  solar  system  march 
together.  Exercise  and  repose  are  equally  indispens- 
able to  mental  vigour;  deficiency  of  exercise  produces 
mental  feebleness;  deficiency  of  rest,  disease.  But  there 
lurks  in  this  statement  a  deeper  and  more  dangerous 
meaning  than  at  first  appears.  The  equilibrium  once 
lost  is  most  difficult  to  restore, — there  is  a  fatal  per- 
sistence in  the  morbid  state.  It  is  a  general  law  of 
the  animal  economy,  that  when  the  vital  powers  are, 
frojh  any  cause,  depressed  below  a  certain  point,  they 


402  OBSERVATIONS   ON   THE 

are  not  easily,  and  sometimes  are  never,  repaired.  A 
large  loss  of  blood,  or  a  profound  exhaustion,  may  entail 
effects  upon  the  constitution  which  will  last  for  years, 
perhaps  for  life.  As  might  be  expected,  the  brain  illus- 
trates this  principle  more  impressively  than  any  other 
portion  of  the  system  :  if  worked  beyond  its  limits,  there 
is  produced  a  rapid  exhaustion  of  power  which  renders 
repose  impossible.  The  exhaustion  of  over-work  is  ac- 
companied by  excitement,  which  tends  to  perpetuate  the 
work  and  accelerate  the  exhaustion.  The  will  is  thus 
swamped  in  the  uncontrollable  mobility  of  the  automatic 
system,  the  attention  becomes  insanely  exalted,  the  brain 
will  not  be  ordered  to  rest,  and  words  of  warning  are 
wasted.  When  his  physicians  admonished  Sir  Walter 
Scott  of  the  impending  consequences  of  excessive  mental 
labour,  he  sadly  replied  :  "  As  for  bidding  me  not  work, 
you  might  as  well  tell  Molly  to  put  the  kettle  on  the 
fire,  and  then  say,  '  now  don't  boil.'  " 

We  live  in  an  age  of  intense  mental  activity  and  ever- 
increasing  cerebral  strain.  Steam  and  electricity  are 
tasked  to  bring  daily  tidings  of  what  is  happening  all 
over  the  world,  and  impressions  pour  in  npon  the  brain 
at  a  rate  with  which  nothing  in  the  past  is  comparable. 
The  fierce  competitions  of  business,  fashion,  study,  and 
political  ambition,  are  at  work  to  sap  the  vigour  and  rack 
the  integrity  of  the  mental  fabric,  and  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  there  is,  in  consequence,  an  immense  amount 
of  latent  brain  disease,  productive  of  much  secret  suflfer- 
ii)g  and  slight  aberrations  of  conduct,  and  which  is  liable, 
hi  any  sudden  stress  of  circumstances,  to  break  out  into 
permanent  mental  derangement.  The  price  we  pay  for 
our  high-pressure  civilization  is  a  fearful  increase  of 
cerebral  exhaustion  and  disorder,  and  an  augmenting 


SCIENTIFIC  STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.         403 

ratio  of  shattered  intellects.  We  are  startled  when  some 
conspicuous  mind,  strained  beyond  endurance,  as  in  the 
cases  of  Hugh  Miller,  or  Admiral  Fitzroy,  crashes  into 
insanity  and  suicide,  yet  these  are  but  symptoms  of  the 
prevailing  tendencies  of  modern  life. 

And  here  I  call  attention  to  the  deep  defects  of  that 
predominant  scheme  of  culture  which  not  only  ignores 
the  human  brain,  and  the  sciences  which  illustrate  it,  as 
objects  of  earnest  systematic  study,  out  explodes  upon 
it  all  the  traditional  contempt  which  it  cherishes  for 
material  nature.  "This  hasty  pudding  within  the  skull," 
said  Frederick  Robertson,  as  he  epitomized,  in  a  single 
expres.sion,  the  stupid  prejudice  of  the  prevailing  "scholar- 
ship." Poor  Robertson !  smitten  down  in  the  midst  of  a 
noble  career,  by  the  consequences  of  over-tasking,  dying 
of  brain  disease  in  the  prime  of  manhood : — how  cruelly 
did  Nature  avenge  the  insult ! 

Men  admire  the  steam-engine  of  Watt  and  the  calcu- 
lating engine  of  Babbage ;  but  how  little  do  they  care 
for  the  thinking  engine  of  the  Infinite  Artificer !  They 
venerate  days,  and  dogmas,  and  ceremonials ;  but  where 
is  the  reverence  that  is  due  to  that  most  sacred  of  the 
things  of  time,  the  organism  of  the  soul !  We  speak 
of  the  glories  of  the  stellar  universe ;  but  is  not  the 
miniature  duplicate  of  that  universe  in  the  living  brain 
a  more  transcendent  marvel  .-*  V/e  admire  the  vast 
fabric  of  society  and  government,  and  that  complicated 
scheme  of  duties,  responsibilities,  usages,  and  laws  which 
constitutes  social  order ;  but  how  few  remember  that 
all  this  has  its  deep  foundation  in  the  measured  march 
of  cerebral  transformations.  We  point  to  the  inven- 
tions, arts,  sciences,  and  literatures,  which  form  the 
swelling   tide   of    civiHzation ;    but    were   they  not   ail 


f04  OBSERVATIONS   ON   THE 

originated  in  that  laboratory  of  wonders,  the  human 
brain?  Geological  revelations  carry  us  back  thiough 
durations  so  boundless,  that  imagination  is  bewildered, 
and  reason  reels  under  the  grandeur  of  the  demon- 
stration ;  but  through  the  measureless  series  of  ad- 
vancing periods,  we  discover  a  stupendous  plan. 
Infinite  Power,  working  through  infinite  time,  converges 
the  mighty  lines  of  causality  to  the  fulfilment  of  an 
eternal  design, — the  birth  of  an  intellectual  and  moral 
era  through  the  development  of  the  brain  of  man, 
which  thus  appears  as  the  final  term  of  an  unfolding 
world. 

The  ultimate  and  decisive  bearing  of  the  foregoing 
views  upon  plans  and  processes  of  instruction,  can 
hardly  fail  to  have  been  perceived.  The  scientific 
method  of  studying  human  nature,  important  as  may  be 
Its  relation  to  the  management  of  the  insane  and  feeble- 
minded, and  valuable  as  is  its  service  in  establishing  the 
limits  of  mental  efibrt,  must  find  its  fullest  application  to 
the  broad  subject  of  education.  For,  whatever  questions 
of  the  proper  subjects  to  be  taught,  their  relative  claims, 
or  the  true  methods  of  teaching  may  arise,  there  is  a 
prior  and  fundamental  inquiry  into  the  nature,  capabili- 
ties, and  requirements  of  the  being  to  be  taught,  upon 
the  elucidation  of  which  all  other  questions  immediately 
depend.  A  knowledge  of  the  being  to  be  trained,  as  it 
b  the  basis  of  all  intelligent  culture,  must  be  the  first 
necessity  of  the  teacher. 

Education  is  an  art,  like  Locomotion,  Mining,  or 
Bleaching,  which  may  be  pursued  empirically  or  ration- 
ally, as  a  blind  habit,  or  under  intelligent  guidance ;  and 
the  relations  of  science  to  it  are  precisely  the  same  ai 


SCIENTIFIC  STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.  405 

to  all  the  other  arts — to  ascertain  their  conditions,  and 
give  law  to  their  processes.  What  it  has  done  for  Naviga- 
tion, Telegraphy,  and  War,  it  will  also  do  for  Culture, 
The  true  method  of  proceeding  may  be  regarded  as 
established,  and  many  important  results  are  already 
reached,  thpugh  its  systematic  application  is  hardly  yet 
entered  upon.  Although  there  is  undoubtedly  a  growing 
interest  in  the  scientific  aspects  of  the  subject,  yet  what 
Mr.  Wyse  wrote  twenty-five  years  ago  remains  still  but 
too  true.  He  says,  "  it  is,  unquestionably,  a  singular  cir- 
cumstance, that,  of  all  problems,  the  problem  of  Education 
is  that  to  which  by  far  the  smallest  share  of  persevering 
and  vigorous  attention  has  yet  been  applied.  The  same 
empiricism  which  once  reigned  supreme  in  the  domains 
of  chemistry,  astronomy,  and  medicine  still  retains  pos- 
session, in  many  instances,  of  those  of  education.  No 
journal  is  kept  of  the  phenomena  of  infancy  and  child- 
hood ;  no  parent  has  yet  registered,  day  after  day,  with 
the  attention  of  an  astronomer  who  prepares  his  ephe- 
merides,  the  marvellous  developments  of  his  child. 
Until  this  is  done,  there  can  be  no  solid  basis  for  reason- 
ing ;  we  must  still  deal  with  conjecture."  And  why  has 
nothing  been  done  ?  Because,  in  the  prevailing  system 
of  culture,  the  art  of  observation,  which  is  the  beginning 
of  all  true  science,  the  basis  of  all  intellectual  discrimi- 
nation, and  the  kind  of  knowledge  which  is  necessary  to 
interpret  these  observations,  are  universally  neglected. 
Our  teachers  mostly  belong  to  the  old  dispensation.  Their 
preparation  is  chiefly  literary ;  if  they  obtain  a  l,ittle  scien- 
tific knowledge,  it  is  for  the  purpose  of  co7nmunicating  it, 
and  not  as  a  means  of  tutorial  guidance.  Their  art  is  a 
mechanical  routine,  and  hence,  very  naturally,  while  ad- 
mitting the  importance  of  advancing  views,  they  really 


f06  OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE 

cannot  see  what  is  to  be  done  about  it.  When  we  say  that 
education  is  an  affair  of  the  laws  of  our  being,  involving 
a  wide  range  of  considerations, — an  affair  of  the  air  re- 
spired, its  moisture,  temperature,  density,  purity,  and 
electrical  state;  an  affair  of  food,  digestion,  and  nutri- 
tion ;  of  the  quantity,  quality,  and  speed  of  the  blood 
sent  to  the  brain  ;  of  clothing  and  exercise,  fatigue  and 
repose,  health  and  disease ;  of  variable  volition,  and 
automatic  nerve  action ;  of  fluctuating  feeling,  redun- 
dancy and  exhaustion  of  nerve-power ;  an  affair  of  light, 
colour,  sound,  resistance ;  of  sensuous  impressibility,  tem- 
perament, family  history,  constitutional  predisposition, 
and  unconscious  influence ;  of  material  surroundings, 
and  a  host  of  agencies  which  stamp  themselves  upon  the 
plastic  organism,  and  reappear  in  character;  in  short, 
that  it  involves  that  complete  acquaintance  with  cor- 
poreal conditions  which  science  alone  can  give, — when 
we  hint  of  these  things,  we  seem  to  be  talking  in  an 
unknown  tongue,  or,  if  intelligible,  then  very  irrelevant 
and  unpractical. 

That  our  general  education  is  in  a  deplorably  chaotic 
state,  pre.senting  a  medley  of  debased  ideals,  conflicting 
systems,  discordant  practices,  and  unsatisfactory  results, 
no  observing  person  will  question  ;  that  this  state  of 
things  is  to  last  for  ever,  we  all  feel  to  be  impossible ; 
and  that  its  future  removal  can  only  come  through  that 
powerful  instrumentality  to  which  we  owe  advancement 
in  other  departments  of  social  activity,  is  equally  clear 
to  the  reflecting.  The  imminent  question  is,  how  may 
the  child  and  youth  be  developed  healthfully  and  vigor- 
ously, bodily,  mentally  and  morally  ;  and  science  alone 
can  answer  it  by  a  statement  of  the  laws  upon  which 
ihat  development  depends.      Ignorance  of  these  lawa 


SCIENTIFIC  STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.        407 

must  inevitably  involve  mismanagement.  That  there  is 
a  large  amount  of  mental  perversion,  and  absolute  stu- 
pidity, as  well  as  of  bodily  disease,  produced  in  school,  by 
measures  which  operate  to  the  prejudice  of  the  growing 
brain,  is  not  to  be  doubted  ;  that  dulness,  indocility,  and 
viciousness,  are  frequently  aggravated  by  teachers,  inca- 
pable of  discriminating  between  their  mental  and  bodily 
causes,  is  also  undeniable ;  while,  that  teachers  often 
miserably  fail  to  improve  their  pupils,  and  then  report 
the  result  of  their  own  incompetency  2.?,  failures  of  nature, 
all  may  have  seen,  although  it  is  now  proved  that  the 
lowest  imbeciles  are  not  sunk  beneath  the  possibility  of 
elevation. 

The  purpose  of  the  foregoing  remarks  has  been  to 
bring  forward  an  aspect  of  man  which  cannot  fail  to 
have  an  important  influence  upon  processes  of  instruc- 
tion. I  have  endeavoured  to  illustrate  the  extent  to 
which  Nature  works  out  her  own  results  in  the  organism 
of  man.  The  numerous  instances  of  self-made  men, 
who,  with  no  external  assistance,  have  risen  to  intel- 
lectual eminence,  and  the  still  more  marked  instances 
where  students  have  forced  their  way  to  success  in 
spite  of  the  hindrances  of  an  irrational  culture,  testify 
to  the  power  of  the  spontaneous  and  self-determining 
tendencies  of  human  character,  while  the  general  over- 
looking of  this  fact  has  unquestionably  led  to  an 
enormous  exaggeration  of  the  potency  of  existing 
educational  methods.  In  establishing  this  view,  science 
both  limits  and  modifies  the  function  of  the  instructor. 
It  limits  it  by  showing  that  mental  operations  are  cor- 
poreally conditioned,  that  large  regions  of  our  nature 
are  beyond  direct  control,  and  that  mental  attainment 
depends  in  a  great  degree  upon  inherited  capacity  and 

'27 


4^08  OBSERVATIONS   ON   THE 

organic  growth.  It  limits  it  by  showing  that  ancestral 
influences  come  down  upon  us  as  we  enter  the  world, 
like  the  hand  of  Fate  ;  that  we  are  born  well,  or  born 
badly,  and  that  whoever  is  ushered  into  existence  at  the 
bottom  of  the  scale,  can  never  rise  to  the  top  because 
the  weight  of  the  universe  is  upon  him.  It  shows  how 
not  to  mistake  the  surface  effects  of  an  ostentatious 
system  for  a  thorough  in-forming  of  character ;  how  not 
to  mistake  the  current  smattering  of  languages,  the 
cramming  for  examinations,  the  glossing  of  accomplisn- 
ments,  the  showy  and  superficial  pedantries  of  literature, 
and  the  labelling  of  degrees,  for  true  education. 

The  office  of  the  teacher  is  thus  narrowed  but  not 
denied.  If  inherited  organization  is  a  factor  of  destiny 
never  to  be  cancelled,  there  is  another  factor  in  that 
culture  which  rests  upon  a  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  life 
and  character.  Science  modifies  the  tutorial  offices  by 
disclosing  the  direction  of  its  real  work,  and  guarding 
against  waste  of  effort,  and  specious  and  spurious  results 
— by  showing  that  education  does  not  consist  in  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  to  be  siphoned  into  the  intel- 
lectual receivers  of  the  school-room,  but  is  rather  to  direct 
the  working  of  a  mechanism  over  which  neither  its  owner 
nor  his  teacher  is  omnipotent — a  mechanism  in  which 
effects  follow  causes,  and  which  always  operates  accord- 
ing to  law.  It  shows  the  Instructor  that  he  must  take 
his  pupil  as  he  finds  him  ;  not  a  mental  abstraction,  to 
be  classed  with  other  "  minds  "  and  worked  by  a  universal 
formula,  but  a  personal  reality — a  part  of  the  order 
of  nature  which  never  repeats  itself  in  a  single  case; 
a  being  with  individual  attributes  which  are  inexorably 
bound  within  the  limits  of  his  organization.  It  therefore 
dtrmands  of  him  to  leave  the  lore  which  is  glorified  V/ 


SCIENTIFIC   STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE.        409 

tradition  until  he  has  thoroughly  grounded  himself  in 
the  elements  of  that  knowledge  of  human  nature — of  the 
springs  of  action  and  the  conditions  and  possibilities  of 
real  improvement,  which  alone  can  confer  the  highest 
skill  in  quickening  the  intellect,  and  moulding  the 
character. 

I  have  thus  attempted  to  prove  that  only  by  inverting 
the  rule  of  the  past,  which  exalted  the  mind  at  the 
expense  of  the  body,  and  bringing  the  resources  of 
modern  induction  to  the  study  of  the  corporeal  or- 
ganism, can  we  arrive  at  that  higher  and  clearer  know- 
ledge of  man,  which  will  make  possible  anything  like  a 
true  Science  of  Human  Nature.  I  have  pointed  out  the 
salutary  results  which  have  already  flowed  from  this 
method  in  the  crucial  test  of  the  treatment  of  the 
insane ;  and  the  vast  benefits  which  society  cannot  fail 
to  reap  from  that  clearer  perception  of  the  laws  of 
vital  and  mental  limitations  which  recent  research  has 
so  decisively  established ;  and  I  have  also  endeavoured 
to  unfold  the  bearing  of  this  view  upon  the  subject  of 
education.  But  the  results  enumerated  are  far  from 
exhausting  the  broad  applicability  of  the  method.  The 
grand  characteristic  of  science  is  its  universality  ;  what  is 
it,  indeed,  but  the  latest  report  of  the  human  mind  on 
the  order  of  nature  }  Its  principles  are  far-reaching  and 
all-inclusive,  so  that  when  a  knowledge  of  the  true  con- 
stitution of  man  is  once  attained,  it  confers  insight  into 
all  the  multitudinous  phases  of  human  manifestation. 
The  same  economy  of  power  which  science  confers  in  the 
material  world,  and  by  which  we  obtain  a  maximum  of 
effect  from  a  minimum  of  force,  she  confers  also  in  the 
world  of  mind.  When  we  have  mastered  the  laws  of 
physical  education  we  have  the  essential  data  for  dealing 


410  OBSERVATIONS  ON   THE 

with  questions  of  mental  education,  and  these  steps  are 
the  indispensable  preparation  for  an  enlightened  moral 
education.  And  the  same  knowledge  of  the  organism 
which  shows  how  it  may  be  best  developed,  gives  also 
the  clue  to  the  understanding  of  its  aberrant  phenomena. 
That  mysterious  ground  which  has  hitherto  been  the  hot- 
bed of  noxious  superstitions  and  dangerous  quackeries, 
is  reclaimed  to  rational  investigation,  and  the  remarkable 
effects  of  reverie,  ecstasy,  hysteria,  hallucinations,  spectral 
illusions,  dreaming,  somnambulism,  mesmerism,  religious 
epidemics,  and  other  kindred  displays  of  nervous  mor- 
bidity, find  adequate  explanation  in  the  ascertained  laws 
of  our  being.  This  kind  of  knowledge  is,  furthermore, 
not  only  of  the  highest  value  to  all  classes  for  practical 
guidance,  but  the  philosophical  students  of  man,  whether 
viewing  him  in  the  moral,  religious,  social,  aesthetic, 
ethnological  or  historic  aspects,  must  find  their  equal  and 
Indispensable  preimration  in  the  mastery  of  the  biological 
and  psychological  laws  which  can  alone  explain  the 
nature  of  the  subject  of  their  research. 

After  what  has  been  said,  it  will  not  be  supposed  that 
I  entertain  any  very  extravagant  expectations  of  the 
immediate  results  to  be  obtained  from  improved  methods 
of  dealing  with  human  nature.  On  the  contrary,  one  of 
the  most  impressive  le.ssons  of  science,  is  that  permanent 
growths  are  slow,  and  that  there  are  limits  which  cannot 
be  overpassed.  Dealing  largely  with  causes  which  only 
work  out  their  results  in  the  fulness  of  time,  it  teaches 
patience,  hope,  and  labour;  and  not  the  least  of  lis 
salutary  influences  will  be,  through  wholesome  discipline 
of  the  imagination,  and  a  rational  control  of  the  sympa- 
thies, to  check  the  waste  of  power  upon  impossible 
projects,  and  restrain  those  enthusiasms  which  are  bom 


SCIENTIFIC   STUDY   OF   HUMAN   NATURE. 


411 


of  the  feelings  rather  than  of  the  judgment.  Nor  do  I 
believe  that  the  perfectibility  of  the  human  race  is  at 
hand  through  the  teaching  of  a  little  more  physiology  in 
schools,  or  that  science  is  to  apply  a  calculus  to  human 
actions,  and  thus  supersede  the  common  sense  and  practi- 
cal judgments  of  mankind.  That  there  is  a  vast  body  of 
valid  know^ledge  concerning  the  nature  of  man,  which  is 
reduced  to  application,  and  serves  for  the  management  of 
conduct,  is  shown  in  all  the  multifarious  aspects  of  social 
activity :  I  simply  hold  that  this  knowledge,  valuable  as  it 
is,  is  yet  imperfect — in  many  respects  deplorably  imperfect 
— and  must  grow  to  a  higher  state  and  a  more  scientific 
character ;  and  that  the  organized  culture  of  the  present 
age  is  bound  to  help  and  not  to  hinder  this  tendency. 
The  time,  I  think,  has  come  for  demanding  that  the  cur- 
riculum of  modern  liberal  education  be  so  reconstructed 
that  its  courses  of  study  shall  have  a  more  direct  and  pos 
itive  bearing  upon  that  most  desirable  end — i  clearer  un 
derstanding  of  the  Laws  of  Human  Natutc, 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 

ON  UNIVERSITY  STUDIES. 
By  Sir  J.  F.  W.  Herschel,  Bart.,  F.R.S. 

"When  Sir  John  Herschel,  a  few  years  ago,  was  residing  at  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  to  observe  the  stars  of  the  southern  hemi- 
sphere, he  was  consulted  by  Dr.  Adamson  respecting  the  scheme  of 
instruction  for  a  South  African  College.  His  views  were  given  in  a 
letter  from  which  the  following  is  an  extract : — 

"  A  good  practical  system  of  public  education  ought,  in  my 
opinion,  to  be  more  real  than  formal ;  I  mean,  should  convey  much 
of  the  positive  knowledge,  with  as  little  attention  to  mere  systems 
and  conventional  forms,  as  is  consistent  with  avoiding  solecisms. 
This  principle  carried  into  detail  would  allow  much  less  weight  to 
the  study  of  the  languages  than  is  usually  considered  its  due  in  our 
great  public  schools,  where,  in  fact,  the  acquisition  of  the  latter 
seems  to  be  regarded  as  the  one  and  only  object  of  education, 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  would  attach  great  importance  to  all 
those  branches  of  practical  and  theoretical  knowledge  whose  posses- 
sion goes  to  constitute  an  idea  of  a  well-informed  gentleman ;  as, 
for  example,  a  knowledge  of  the  nature  and  constitution  of  the 
world  we  inhabit,  its  animal,  vegetable,  and  mineral  productions, 
and  their  uses  and  properties  as  subservient  to  human  wants  ;  its 
relation  to  the  system  of  the  universe,  and  its  natural  and  political 
subdivisions  :  and,  last  and  most  important  of  all,  the  nature  and 
propensities  of  man  himself,  as  developed  in  the  history  of  nations 
and  the  biography  of  individuals  ;  the  constructions  of  human 
society,  including  our  responsibilities  to  individuals  and  to  the  social 
body  of  which  we  are  members.  In  a  word,  as  extensive  a  know- 
ledge as  can  be  grasped  and  conveyed  in  an  elementary  course,  of 
the  actual  system  and  the  laws  of  nature,  both  physical  and  moraL 

"  Again,  in  a  country  where  free  institutions  prevail,  and  where 
public  opinion  is  of  consequence,  every  man  is  to  a  certain  extent  a 
legislator  ;  and  for  this  his  education  (especially  where  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  country  lends  its  aid  and  sanction  to  it)  ought  at  least  so 
far  to  prepare  him,  as  to  place  him  on  his  guard  against  those  obvious 
and  popular  fallacies  which  lie  across  the  threshold  of  this  as  well 
as  of  every  other  subject  with  which  human  reason  has  anything 
to  do.     Every  man  is  called  upon  to  obev  the  laws,  and  therefore 


fi6 


APPENDIX. 


it  cannot  be  deemed  superfluous  that  some  portion  of  every  mnn'i 
education  should  consist  in  informing  him  what  they  are.  On  these 
grounds,  it  would  seem  to  me  that  some  knowledge  of  the  principles 
of  political  economy,  of  jurisprudence,  of  trade  and  manufactures, 
is  essentially  involved  in  the  notion  of  a  sound  education.  A  mode- 
rate acquaintance  also  with  certain  of  the  useful  arts,  such  as  prac- 
tical mechanics  or  engineering,  agriculture,  draugiitsmanship,  is  ol 
obvious  utility  in  every  station  in  life  ;  while,  in  a  commercial  com- 
munity, the  only  remedy  for  that  proverbial  short-sightedness  to 
their  best  ultimate  interests,  which  is  the  misfortune  rather  than 
the  fault  of  every  mercantile  commimity  upon  earth,  seems  to  be  to 
inculcate,  as  a  part  of  education,  those  broad  principles  of  free  inter- 
change and  reciprocal  profit  and  public  justice  on  which  the  whole 
edifice  of  permanently  successful  enterprise  must  be  based. 

"  The  exercise  and  development  of  our  reasoning  faculties  is 
another  grand  object  of  education,  and  is  usually  considered,  and 
in  a  certain  sense  justly,  as  most  likely  to  be  obtained  by  a  judicious 
course  of  mathematical  instruction,  while  it  stands,  if  not  opposed 
to,  at  least  in  no  natural  connexion  with,  the  formal  and  conventional 
departments  of  knowledge  (such  as  grammar  and  the  so-called  Aris- 
totelian logic).  It  must  be  recollected,  however,  that  there  are  minds 
which,  though  not  devoid  of  reasoning  powers,  yet  manifest  a  decided 
inaptitude  for  mathematical  studies — which  are  estimative  not  calcu- 
lating^ and  which  are  more  impressed  by  .inalogies  and  by  apparent 
preponderance  of  general  evidence  in  argument,  than  by  mathe- 
matical demonstration,  where  all  the  argument  is  on  one  side  and 
no  show  of  reason  can  be  exhibited  on  the  other.  The  mathema- 
tician listens  only  to  one  side  of  a  question,  for  this  plain  reason 
— that  no  strictly  mathematical  question  has  more  than  one  side 
capable  of  being  maintained  otherwise  than  by  simple  assertion  ; 
while  all  the  great  questions  that  arise  in  busy  life  and  agitate  the 
world,  are  stoutly  disputed,  and  often  with  a  show  of  reason  on 
both  sides,  which  leaves  the  shrewdest  at  a  loss  for  a  decision. 

"  This,  or  something  like  it,  has  often  been  urged  by  those  who 
contend  against  what  they  consider  an  undue  extension  of  mathe- 
matical studies  in  our  universities.  But  those  who  have  urged  the 
objection  have  stopped  short  of  the  remedy.  It  is  essential,  how- 
ever, to  fill  this  enormous  blank  in  every  course  of  education  which 
has  hitherto  been  acted  on,  by  a  due  provision  of  some  course  of 
study  and  instruction  which  shall  meet  the  difficulty  by  showing 
ht»w  valid  propositions  are  to  be  drawn,  not  from  premises  which 
virtually  contain  them  in  their  very  words,  as  is  the  case  with 
abstract  propositions  in  mathematics,  nor  from  the  juxtaposition  of 
oth.-r  propositions  assumed  as  true,  as  in  the  AristoteUan  logic,  but 
from  the  broad  consideration  of  an  assemblage  of  facts  and  cir- 
cumstances brought  under  review.  This  is  the  scope  of  the  induc- 
tive philosophy,  applicable,  and  which  ought  to  be  applied  (though 
it  never  yet  has  fairly  been  soX  to  all  the  complex  circumstances  of 
human  hfe  ;  to  poUtics,  to  morals  and  legislation  ;  to  the  guidance 


SIR  JOHN   HERSCHEL.  417 

of  individual  conduct,  and  that  of  nations.  I  cannot  too  strongly 
recommend  this  to  the  consideration  of  those  who  are  now  to 
decide  on  the  normal  course  of  instruction  to  be  adopted  in  your 
College.  Let  them  have  the  glory — for  glory  it  will  really  be — to 
have  given  a  new  impulse  to  public  instruction  by  placing  the  Novum 
Organum,  for  the  first  time,  in  the  hands  of  young  men  educating 
for  active  life,  as  a  text-book,  and  as  a  regular  part  of  their  College 
course.  It  is  strong  meat,  I  admit,  but  it  is  manly  nutriment ;  ami 
though  imperfectly  comprehended  (as  it  must  be  at  that  age  when 
the  College  course  terminates),  the  glimpses  caught  of  its  meaning, 
under  a  due  course  of  collateral  explanation,  will  fructify  in  after 
life,  and,  like  the  royal  food  with  which  the  young  bee  is  fed,  will 
dilate  the  frame  and  transform  the  whole  habit  and  economy.  Of 
course,  it  should  be  mf.de  the  highest  book  for  the  most  advanced 
classes." 

{Extract  from  a  Communication  to  the  English  Public  School 
Commissioners,  frojn  SiR  J.  F.  W.  Herschel). 

Regarding  as  a  "  Public  School "  any  considerable  permanent 
educational  establishment,  in  which  a  large  number  of  youths  go 
through  a  fixed  and  uniform  course  of  school  instruction,  from  the 
earliest  age  at  which  boys  are  usually  sent  to  school  to  that  in 
which  they  either  enter  the  University,  or  pass  in  some  other  mode 
into  manly  life,  and  in  which  it  is  understood  that  the  education  is 
what  is  called  a  liberal  one,  with  no  special  professional  bias  or  other 
avowed  object  than  to  form  a  youth  for  general  life  and  civilized 
society,  I  should  consider  any  system  radically  faulty  which  should 
confine  itself  to  the  study  of  the  classical  languages,  and  to  so  much 
of  Greek  and  Roman  history  as  is  necessary  to  understand  the 
classical  authors  as  its  main  and  primary  feature  ;  and  should 
admit,  and  that  reluctantly,  a  mere  ■minimum  of  extra-classical 
teaching.  Such  a  system  must  necessarily,  I  conceive,  suffer  the 
reasoning  faculty  to  languish  and  become  stunted  and  dwarfed  for 
want  of  timely  exercise  in  those  years  between  fourteen  and  twenty, 
when  the  mind  has  become  capable  of  consecutive  thought,  and  of 
following  out  a  train  of  consecutive  argument  to  a  logical  conclu- 
sion. In  those  years  it  is  quite  as  important  that  youths  should 
have  placed  in  their  hands,  and  be  obliged  to  study,  books  which 
may  best  initiate  them  in  this  domain  of  human  thought,  as  in  that 
of  classical  literature.  To  be  able  to  express  one's  self  fluently  in 
Greek  or  Latin,  prose  or  verse ;  to  have  attained  an  extensive  fami- 
liarity with  ancient  literature,  and  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the 
niceties  of  his  grammar,  prosody,  and  idiom, — all,  in  short,  which 
is  included  in  the  idea  of  classical  scholarship, — is,  no  doubt,  very 
desirable ;  and  I  should  be  one  of  the  last  to  depreciate  it.  But  it 
is  bought  too  dear,  if  obtained  at  the  sacrifice  of  any  reasonable 
prospect  of  improving  the  general  intellectual  character  by  ac- 
quiring habits  of  concentrated  thought,  by  familiarizing  the  mind 


4l8  APPENDIX. 

with  the  contemplation  of  abstract  truth,  and  by  accustoming  it  to 
the  attitude  of  mvestigation,  induction,  and  generalization,  while 
it  is  yet  plastic  and  impressible." 

ON  THE  GENERAL  INFLUENCE  OF  SCIENTIFIC 
CULTURE. 

By  George  E.  Paget,  M.D.,  F.R-CP. 

{Extract  from  an  Address  before  the  British  Medical  Association^ 
delivered  at  Cambridge,  1864.) 

The  general  question,  whether  the  study  of  natural  science 
should  become  an  established  part  of  the  education  of  the  higher 
classes,  is  a  subject  of  such  interest  as  to  need  no  apology  for  its 
introduction  before  any  audience,  and  least  of  all  before  you.  It  is 
not  only  one  of  the  great  educational  questions  of  the  day,  but 
a  question,  in  the  right  solution  of  which  no  class  is  more  interested 
than  is  our  profession. 

I  confess  that,  to  me,  it  seems  high  time  to  consider  whether 
natural  science  might  not  be  useful  as  part  of  a  liberal  education, 
when  an  author  of  great  distinction  and  undoubted  learning — one 
whose  writings  have  been  rewarded  with  the  applause  of  the 
educated  world  and  with  some  of  the  highest  dignities  in  the  gift 
of  the  Crown — states  as  a  "  well-attested  fact,  that  a  man's  body 
is  lighter  when  he  is  awake  than  sleeping  ;  a  fact "  (he  says) 
"  which  every  nurse  who  has  carried  a  child  would  be  able  to 
attest ; "  and  concludes  from  these  well-attested  facts,  that  "  the 
human  consciousness,  as  an  inner  centre,  works  as  an  opposing 
force  to  the  attraction  of  the  earth."  I  quote  from  a  seventh 
edition,  revised. 

To  my  mind,  the  necessity  for  more  general  instruction  in  natural 
science  needs  no  further  proof,  when  ladies  and  gentlemen  appear 
in  a  court  of  law  to  vouch  their  belief  in  the  supernatural  powers 
of  a  crystal  globe ;  when  those  who  are  called  highly  educated 
throng  the  necromancer's  consulting  room  to  hear  disembodied 
spirits  rap  on  his  table ;  when  they  daily  become  the  dupes  of 
barefaced  quackeries  ;  and,  while  avowing  their  belief  in  what  is 
absurd  or  even  impossible,  plume  themselves  on  their  sujjerioriiy 
to  prejudice,  regard  themselves  with  complacency  as  walkmg  in  the 
spirit  of  the  age — as  being  au  courant  with  its  progress — and  class 
with  the  persecutors  of  Galileo  any  who  question  the  accuracy  of 
their  facts  or  the  logic  of  their  conclusions. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  enlightenment  of  the  present 
age,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  readiness  and  boldness  with 
which  it  forms  or  avows  its  opinions.  Far  be  it  from  me  lo  ques* 
tion  the  birthright  of  an  Englishman,  to  judge  of  all  matters, 
wb'-ther  he  understands  them  or  not  The  right  of  private  judg- 
ment is  the  most  precious  of  civil  rights  ;  but  it  may  occasionally 
make  fools  of  us,  when  exercised  upon  questions  in  which  we  ar« 


DR.  GEORGE  E.  PAGET, 


41'; 


■iiinstructed.  Even  freedom  of  thought  is  not  an  unmixed  good. 
It  stirs  a  community  in  all  directions — not  always  in  the  direction 
of  progress.  In  the  unwise  and  presumptous  it  is  often  the  parent 
of  mischievous  errors,  that  tind  ready  acceptance  among  the 
ignorant  and  indolent,  and  cost  for  their  removal  much  time  and 
trouble  of  wiser  men.  It  is  easier  to  refute  errors  than  to  remove 
them.  Ignorance  must  be  instructed,  self-sufficiency  must  become 
modest,  before  it  can  be  convinced. 

I  have  sometimes  fancied  that  the  rapid  succession  of  brilliant 
discoveries  and  inventions  which  has  characterized  the  present  age, 
and  should  have  enlightened  it,  has  actually  enhanced  its  credulity 
for  the  pretensions  of  quackery  and  imposture ;  that  the  unexpected 
and  unimagined  achievements  of  true  science  have  so  dazzled  the 
minds  of  people,  as  to  render  them  more  accessible  to  other 
marvels,  whether  true  or  false,  and  more  ready  to  yield  unquestion- 
ing belief  in  ivhatever  is  new  and  wonderful :  as,  in  times  of  old, 
the  heroic  deeds  of  a  Hercules  or  King  Arthur  led  their  admiring 
countrymen  to  ascribe  to  them  other  achievements,  not  only  unreal, 
but  impossible. 

Or  as,  m  the  sixteenth  century,  when  men's  minds  had  been 
roused  and  agitated  by  the  spiritual  preaching  of  the  Protestant 
Reformers,  a  readier  credence  was  given,  not  to  spiritual  truths 
only,  but  also  to  spiritual  and  mystical  errors.  Then  was  the  time 
when  enthusiasts  abounded,  whose  imagination  called  up  before 
their  eyes  every  object  they  desired -to  see  ;  then  it  was  that  astro- 
logy was  the  most  widely  spread  and  most  generally  studied  as  an 
useful  science  ;  then  it  was  that  demons  were  classified,  and  that 
witches  were  burnt  in  thousands.  Then,  even  self-reliant  intellects 
that  had  thrown  off  the  yoke  of  ancient  beliefs,  yielded  a  ready 
credence  to  almost  anything  which  had  a  spiritual  semblance. 
Melancthon  was  one  of  the  chief  defenders  of  astrology.  Luther 
attributed  diseases  to  the  immediate  agency  of  the  devil,  and  was 
indignant  with  the  physicians  who  referred  them  to  natural  causes. 
Paracelsus  and  Cardan,  while  shaking  the  popular  faith  in  ancient 
physic,  rested  their  own  on  cabalism  and  astrology. 

In  the  old  city  of  Aberdeen  sorcery  had  lain  undiscovered, 
though  the  holy  clerks  of  King's  College  had  been  there  for  a 
hundred  years,  ready  at  any  time  to  have  exorcised  it  with  bell, 
book,  and  candle  ;  but  in  the  fourth  year  after  the  founding  ot 
Marischal  College  and  the  spiritual  teaching  of  its  Protestant  pro- 
fessors, twenty-four  witches  were  burnt  alive  for  dancing  with  the 
devil  around  the  market  cross. 

As  the  minds  of  men  in  those  days,  when  awakened  to  new  and 
deep  spiritual  convictions,  were  opened  also  to  mystical  errors; — 
S(}  in  the  present  day,  when  startled  with  scientific  wonders  beyond 
their  comprehension,  do  they  gape  at  and  swallow  indiscriminately 
every  new  thing  that  is  presented  to  them  under  the  outward  guise 
of  science  : — and  this,  while  they  are  disposed  rather  to  scepticism 
than  credulity  in  matters  of  ancient  belief. 


f20  APPENDIX. 

Truth,  it  has  often  been  said,  is  stranger  than  fiction  They  that 
use  the  proverb  have,  commonly,  in  view  only  the  events  of  history 
or  of  social  life.  But  it  is  equally  true,  if  we  compare  the  estab- 
lished facts  of  science  with  the  pretended  facts  of  fraud  or  quackery. 
If  you  tell  an  uninstructed  person  that  you  can  talk  easily  and 
fluently  with  a  friend  a  thousand  miles  off, — can  write  to  him  at 
th.1t  distance  in  letter  or  in  cypher,  whichever  he  prefers,  and  that 
all  the  help  you  need  is  in  some  pieces  of  zinc  and  copper  and  some 
acid  and  a  long  piece  of  wire,  and  a  thing  somewhat  like  the  face 
and  hands  of  a  clock ;  and  then  tell  him,  that  by  merely  resting 
your  fingers  on  a  table,  you  can  make  it  turn  round  and  stand  on 
one  leg,  and  then  move  of  itself  about  the  room  :  both  things  may 
seem  to  him  very  strange,  very  wonder-moving ;  but  surely  the 
truth  here  must  seem  stranger  than  the  fiction.  To  an  uninstnicted 
person  table-turning  must  seem  at  least  as  credible  as  electric  tele- 
graphy. Or,  again,  if  you  were  to  tell  him  that  there  are  rays  of 
light  which  give  no  light ;  that,  when  separated  from  other  rays, 
and  admitted  into  a  darkened  room,  they  cannot  be  seen,  they  give 
no  light,  and  the  room  remains  dark  as  before,  and  yet  that  Pro- 
fessor Stokes  has  made  them  visible — has  made  these  dark  rays 
shine  and  give  light  in  the  room— merely  by  intercepting  them  with 
a  solution  of  a  salt  of  quinine  contained  in  an  ordinary  glass  ;  and 
if,  then,  an  advocate  of  homoeopathy  were  to  expound  to  the  same 
hearer  his  views  of  the  action  of  medicines, — surely  the  dogmas 
of  Hahnemann  (unproved  and  unsound  as  we  know  them  to  be) 
may  seem  to  the  uninstructed  person  no  more  strange  or  incredible 
than  what  you  had  told  him  about  the  rays  of  light,  though  the 
latter  be  well-assured  facts,  that  can  be  verified  at  any  moment, 
and  are  in  harmony  with  the  whole  body  of  optical  science. 

It  is  plain  that  by  no  instinct,  no  common  sense,  no  natural 
power,  can  any  man  discern  between  truth  and  untruth  in  these 
matters  :  to  the  uninstructed  in  sciences  of  observation  the  truth 
must  seem  stranger,  less  credible,  than  the  fiction.  It  is  to  this 
want  of  special  scientific  instruction  that  we  must  ascribe  the 
popularity  of  error.  For  it  must  be  admitted,  that  they  who 
believe  the  fictions  are  not  all,  in  a  general  sense,  fools  :  there  are 
among  them  prudent  statesmen,  astute  lawyers,  faithful  ministers, 
discreet  housewives,  such  as,  in  their  several  callings,  we  might  be 
content  to  take  as  our  guides.  And  yet,  because  of  their  want  of 
scientific  training,  their  want  of  that  knowledge  which  would  tell 
them  what  it  takes  to  establish  a  real  fact  in  science,  they  are 
unable  to  distinguish  truth  from  its  counterfeit,  or  to  gainsay  the 
pretensions  of  quackery  and  imposture. 

How,  then,  can  people  be  guided  to  a  better  judgment  ni  these 
things?  Chiefly  by  being  themselves  in  some  measure  instructed 
in  some  of  the  sciences  of  observation  ;  and  then  by  being  taught 
that,  in  such  things  as  1  have  put  in  contrast,  the  one  set  of  state- 
ments are,  and  the  other  are  not,  founded  on  careful,  repeated, 
various  inquiries  by  men  of  special  training  ;  that  the  one  set  are. 


DR.  GEORGE  E.   PAGET.  42 1 

and  the  other  set  are  not,  provable  by  every  test  to  the  satisfaction 
of  all  who  will  look  on  and  who  are  too  acute  to  be  deceived  ;  and, 
finally,  that  the  truths  are,  and  the  fictions  are  not,  parts  of  a 
system  or  whole  body  of  sciences. 

It  is  this — the  value  and  weight  of  a  body  of  science — that 
uneducated  people  cannot  understand.  They  may  perhaps  form 
some  judgment  whether  the  reasons  advanced  for  any  new  view  be 
in  themselves  good  or  bad,  but  they  cannot  estimate  the  kind  or 
amount  of  evidence  necessary  to  establish  its.  truth  ;  nor  can  they 
appreciate  the  objections  to  it.  They  know  not  the  multitude  of 
well-assured  facts  which  make  up  the  body  of  true  science,  and 
each  of  which  must  be  a  standing  argument  against  the  admission 
of  any  new  view  that  is  at  variance  with  them.  To  persons  versed 
in  science,  this  objection,  in  its  aggregate,  is  well  nigh  conclusive. 
We  may,  in  short,  safely  assert,  that  whatever  cannot  bear  the  test 
of  other  scientific  inquiry,  whatever  cannot  be  incorporated  with 
other  knowledge,  is  probably  not  true. 

These,  unfortunately,  are  tests  which  they  who  are  uninstructed 
in  science  cannot  apply  for  themselves ;  and,  as  this  class  must 
always  remain  a  large  one,  we  may  be  sure  that  quackery  and 
credulity,  fraud  and  folly,  will  never  cease  while  the  world  lasts. 
They  are  evils  that  can  never  be  wholly  removed. 

Yet,  assuredly,  they  may  he  mitigated.  If  some  portion  of  the 
natural  sciences,  and  in  particular  those  which  treat  of  the  laws  of 
life,  should  become  an  established  part  of  the  higher  general  educa- 
tion— of  the  education,  not  of  medical  students  only,  but  of  every 
English  gentleman, — we  may  expect  that  society  will,  in  course  of 
time,  become  more  conversant  with  the  kind  of  knowledge  required 
for  distinguishing  between  true  science  and  its  counterfeit.  We 
may.reasonable  look  forward  to  this  improvement,  if  the  universities 
of  Oxford  and  Cambridge  go  onwards  in  the  course  they  have  taken 
of  late  years,  and  do  not  rest  until  no  one  shall  be  called  well  edu- 
cated who  has  not  been  trained  in  the  knowledge  of  some  natural 
science.  I  say  expressly  some  natural  science ;  for  he  that  has 
studied  even  one,  and  has  learned  with  what  temper  it  must  be 
pursued,  with  what  labour  it  has  been  set  up,  with  what  evidence 
every  new  doctrine  in  it  must  be  supported,  and  how  that  evidence 
must  be  able  to  bear  a  jealous  cross-examination, — he,  I  say,  that 
has  learned  this  in  any  one  natural  science,  will  not  lightly  adopt 
spurious  imitations  of  facts  in  any  other. 

And  this  wider  diffusion  of  a  knowledge  of  natural  science— how 
much  it  would  add  to  social  and  national  happiness  !  Very  few 
men  pass  through  life  without  repeated  occasions  for  the  exercise  of 
scientific  knowledge  in  questions  of  their  own  or  others'  health,  or 
property,  or  social  relations  ;  and  according  as  a  man  guides  him- 
self, or  submits  to  guidance,  wisely  or  unwisely,  so  is  the  result  for 
his  life,  his  health,  or  a  great  portion  of  his  happiness. 

But  if  we  would  see  to  what  a  height  of  importance  the  correct 
appreciation  of  science  may  rise,  let  us  look  at  its  bearings   on 


422  APPENDIX. 

matters  of  vital  interest  to  the  whole  nation.  We  have  an  instancs 
in  wbat  Sidney  Herbert  accomplished  for  the  health  of  the  British 
army.  Till  1857  the  mortality  in  the  infantry  serving  at  home  was 
nearly  double  that  of  the  civil  population  of  the  corresponding  ages. 
Now  it  is  actually  Uss  than  in  civil  life.  It  is  less  than  hal/oi  what 
it  was.  This  represents  the  saving  of  the  lives  of  British  soldiers 
in  time  of  peace.  The  contrast  is  even  more  striking  in  war,  if  we 
compare  the  mortality  from  sickness  in  the  two  wars  in  China — the 
one  before,  the  other  after,  the  introduction  of  the  new  regulation  ; 
— and  yet  these  were  little  more  than  well-known  sanitary  rules, 
applied  intelligently  by  an  able  and  earnest  minister. 

Then,  if  we  turn  from  what  has  been  done  to  what  has  not  yet 
been  done — to  the  report  of  the  sanitary  state  of  our  army  in  India, 
to  the  facts  which  it  discloses,  and  the  sad  reflections  it  suggests — 
we  may  see,  in  matters  in  which  the  highest  political  interests  of 
the  empire  are  concerned,  how  much  might  have  been  effected  by 
men  of  station  if  they  had  been  instructed  in  sanitary  science,  or 
had  guided  themselves  by  the  advice  of  others  who  were. 

But  it  is  a  general  diffusion  of  such  knowledge,  or  at  least  of 
respect  for  such  knowledge,  which  is  needed  in  a  country  like 
England  ;  where  the  government  is  so  much  under  the  immediate 
influence  of  popular  opinion,  that  scarcely  a  step  can  be  taken  for 
which  the  general  public  is  not  prepared.  An  autocrat,  or  his 
minister,  if  he  be  alive  to  the  advances  of  science,  may  apply  them 
at  once  to  the  exigencies  of  the  state.  But  with  us,  there  can  be 
little  progress  without  a  progress  of  the  whole  nation. 

After  aU,  it  is  not  to  be  maintained  that  the  study  of  natural 
science  has  the  peculiar  merit  of  making  men,  in  all  respects,  wiser 
than  the  study  of  any  physical  science,  or  of  literature,  might  make 
them.  I  fear  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  body  medical,  instructed 
though  all  of  us  have  been  in  natural  science,  has  furnished  its 
share  of  victims  to  the  quackeries  of  religious  profession,  of  politics, 
and  of  speculative  finance.  But  this  only  strengthens  the  argument 
for  the  necessity  of  general  education  in  natural  science.  Just  as 
scientific  men  err,  when  they  engage  in  matters  that  they  have  not 
studied  ;  so  do  the  unscientific,  when  they  essay  to  judge  in  scien- 
tific questions,  without  even  knowledge  enough  to  choose  their 
guides. 

And  if  some  acquaintance  with  the  natural  sciences  be  so  need- 
ful for  men  in  general,  what  should  be  expected  of  us,  the  medical 
profession,  who  practise  daily  an  art  which  has  its  only  sound  basis 
m  these  very  sciences. 

I  am  well  aware  of  the  difficulty  of  maintaining  a  high  standard 
of  scientific  acquirements  for  all,  without  exception,  that  seek  to 
enter  our  profession  ;  but  surely  this  is  what  should  be  unceasingly 
aimed  at.  Without  scientific  knowledge,  the  practice  of  medicine 
becomes  mere  empiricism  ;  without  scientific  and  general  acquire- 
ments, our  profession  may  strive  in  vain  to  uphold  its  social  stitus 
%nd  its  influence. 


DR.  GEORGE  E.   PAGET.  423 

Every  ignorant  man  admitted  into  our  profession  hasaninjuiious 
Influence  on  the  estimation  in  which  the  entire  body  is  held.  His 
demerits  have  a  tendency  to  lower  us  throughout  the  circle  in  which 
he  is  known.  The  want  of  confidence  in  him — the  want  of  respect 
for  him — beget  distrust  and  disrespect  for  the  profession  in  general. 

Contrast  with  this,  the  influence  on  our  social  status  of  such  men 
as  Mead,  Freind,  and  Arbuthnot,  Thomas  Young,  Abercrombie, 
and  Brodie,  and  of  the  many  others,  whose  acquirements  or  achieve- 
ments in  literature  or  science  have  raised  them  to  eminence  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world.  Have  they  not  elevated  in  some  degree  the 
whole  body  medical ;  nay,  are  there  not  some  of  our  own  associates, 
now  living — are  there  not  some  here  present — who  have  made  us 
all  their  debtors  by  the  lustre  they  have  thus  reflected  on  our  com- 
mon calling? 

And  so,  likewise,  must  our  scientific  character  be  the  measure  of 
our  social  influence;  and  especially  of  our  power  of  maintaining 
truth  against  error  in  questions  that  are  daily  exciting  the  attention 
of  society,  and  of  which  we  ought  to  be  the  accepted  exponents. 

When  we  consider  that  the  sciences,  with  which  we  are,  or  ought 
to  be,  conversant,  include  subjects  of  which  people  in  general  are 
so  ignorant,  and  in  which  nevertheless  they  take  so  lively  and 
curious  an  interest,  and  which  concern  their  well-being  in  almost 
all  they  do  or  suffer ;  surely  it  is  in  our  power,  as  it  certainly  comes 
within  our  duty,  to  exercise  a  wide  influence  for  good  ;  surely  it  is 
our  duty,  and  may  be  our  privilege,  to  be  in  these  matters  the 
scientific  "  salt  of  the  earth." 

Our  profession  has  never  been  backward  in  such  work.  The 
learned  and  ingenious  author  of  "  Inquiries  into  Vulgar  Errors " 
was  a  provincial  physician.  It  was  a  physician  also  who,  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  strove  single-handed  with  the  arms  of  reason 
against  the  barbarous  hosts  of  witch-burners,  and  bore  the  glorious 
reproach  of  folly  and  presumption  for  putting  the  judgment  of  an 
insignificant  physician  in  opposition  to  the  dicta  and  decrees  of 
emperors  and  kings,  legislators  and  judges,  divines  and  philosophers 
of  all  ages  and  all  countries.  And  something  has  been  done  in  our 
time — and  well  done — for  the  direct  refutation  of  error.  The  most 
fashionable  of  modern  quackeries  has  been  ably  and  thoroughly 
exposed  by  Dr.  Simpson. 

Few  have  the  ability  for  works  of  this  kind  ;  but  there  are  many 
of  us,  who  might  do  something  to  prevent  the  spread  of  mis- 
chievous errors.  We  might  do  much,  if  we  were  to  aid  in  such 
instruction  as  would  be  some  safeguard  against  them.  We  know 
what  was  effected  by  the  late  Professor  Hensiow  ;  how  in  a  few 
years  he  brought  about  a  complete  revolution,  intellectual  as  well 
as  moral,  in  a  grossly  ignorant  village  community  ;  how  even  such 
people  as  those  were  instructed  in  some  knowledge  of  science,  and 
filled  with  a  rational  and  elevating  respect  for  it.  And  really  the 
means  employed  were  little  more  than  might  be  in  the  power  of  any 
medical  practitioner  who  has  his  home  in  the  country.     It  was  not 

s        28 


4.24  APPENDIX. 

the  depth  of  Professor  Honslows  knowledge,  but  the  simplicity 
with  which  he  imparted  it,  that  gave  to  it  so  powerful  an  influence. 
Our  country  members  are  quite  capable  of  giving  short,  easy 
lectures,  as  Professor  Henslow  did,  and  many  of  them  are  capable 
of  doing  it  well.  I  am  not  unaware  of  the  objections  that  may  be 
Urged  against  medical  men  lecturing,  and  of  the  fatally  easy  Iran- 
lition  from  lectures  for  the  benefit  of  others,  to  lectures  for  the  benefit 
of  one's  self;  but  1  think  such  objections  are  not  applicable  to  the 
case  of  a  man  instructing  the  poor  of  his  own  village,  where  he  is 
officially  charged  with  the  care  of  them  in  sickness — in  fact,  though 
not  in  name,  the  true  guardian  of  the  poor, — and  where  some  little 
instruction  in  such  simple  matters  as  the  air  they  breathe,  and.  the 
food  they  eat,  may  save  his  poor  neighbours  from  suffering,  or  even 
death,  and  himself  from  some  portion  of  his  ill-requited  labours. 

I  am  disposed  even  to  think,  that  our  patients  of  the  upper  classes 
would  have  more  confidence  in  orthodox  medicine,  if  we  were  to 
vouchsafe  more  frequently  to  gratify  their  natural  curiosity  as  to 
the  nature  of  their  diseases  and  the  processes  of  cure.  I  am  well 
aware  of  the  opinion  of  shrewd  "  practical  men,"  that  no  doctors 
acouire  a  reputation  for  skill,  like  those  that  hold  their  tongues ; 
ana,  doubtless,  silence  is  the  most  prudent  for  those,  that  aim  to  be 
counted  wise,  though  they  be  not  so  ;  but  I  think,  nevertheless,  that 
an  explanation  of  the  case  is  as  much  due  from  the  physician  to  his 
patient,  as  it  is  from  the  lawyer  to  his  client  ;  and  that  the  con- 
fidence of  the  public  in  rational  medicine  would  be  strengthened 
by  such  explanations.  I  do  not  mean  that  the  doctor  should  put 
on  an  air  of  profundity,  and  look,  like  Lord  Thurlow,  more  wise 
than  it  is  possible  for  any  man  to  be ;  nor  that  he  should  impress 
on  his  patient  that 

"  These  are  diseases  he  ma<t  know  the  whole  on. 
For  he  talks  of  the  peritoneum  and  the  colon : 

but  I  mean  that  he  should  be  willing  to  give  a  plain  explanation  in 
words  as  free  as  may  be  from  technicalities. 

We  do  injustice  to  medicine,  if  we  treat  it  as  a  mystery.  It  is  a 
science,  and  entitled  to  rank  as  such  ;  and  we  at  least  should  be 
ready  to  show  that  its  maxims  are  founded  in  truth  and  reason. 

Let  us  hope  that  the  educational  changes  now  in  progress  will 
aid  us  in  maintaining  the  dignity  which  is  its  due  ;— that,  when 
people  are  better  instructed  as  to  the  sciences  on  which  medicine 
rests  when  they  themselves  have  examined  into  some  parts  of  it* 
broad  and  firm  foundations,  they  will  have  a  juster  appreciation  of 
medicine  itself.  Let  us  hope,  that  medicine  will  then  receive  the 
respect  that  is  due  to  it,  as  the  only  one  of  the  learned  professions 
which  holds  its  doctrines  open  to  all  inquiries,  and  never  con- 
descends to  uphold  itself  on  any  dogma  either  of  authority  of 
tradition.  Let  us  hope — as  we  have  a  right  to  hope — that  medicin- 
will  then  be  honourea  as  the  profession  in  which  all  discoveries  and 
inventions  are  offered  fiecly  for  the  benefit  of  mankind,  and  in 


MR.   HERBERT   SPENCER.  425 

which  their  concealment  for  solfish  purposes,  or  their  appropriation 
by  patent  right,  is  held  to  bo  disgraceful. 

And  till  then,  if  the  world  deny  to  our  profession  the  full  honour 
which  we  feel  and  know  is  due  to  it,  we  may  be  well  content  with 
the  ordinary  round  of  duties,  which  are  at  once  our  lot  and  our 
privilege  :  we  may  be  content  with  the  internal  satisfaction  that 
our  time  is  spent  to  the  best  of  our  ability  in  doing  good  to  our 
fellow-men  ;  that  we  do  not  rest  supinely  satisfied  with  what  is  im- 
perfect in  our  science,  but  are  ever  earnestly  and  laboriously  seek- 
ing for  fresh  light  ;  and  when  God  vouchsafes  it  to  our  inquiries, 
we  use  it  gladly  in  such  works  as  He  would  have  us  do — in  the 
relief  of  human  sufiferines,  in  healing  the  sick,  in  striving  to  make , 
the  lame  walk  and  the  blind  see — in  earnest  endeavours  to  follow 
our  Divine  Exemplar,  though  it  be  with  the  limited  powers  and 
faltering  steps  of  human  infirmity. 

ON  THE  ORDER  OF  DISCOVERY  IN  THE  PROGRESS 

OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

By  Herbert  Spencer. 

{From  '^'^  First  Principles'^  p.  128.) 

The  growing  belief  in  the  universality  of  L^w  is  so  conspicuous 
to  all  cultivated  m.inds,  as  scarcely  to  need  illustration.  None 
who  read  these  pages  will  ask  for  proof  that  this  has  been  the 
central  element  of  intellectual  progress.  But  though  the  fact  is 
sufficiently  familiar,  the  philosophy  of  the  fact  is  not  so,  and  it  will 
be  desirable  now  to  consider  it.  Partly  because  the  development 
of  our  conception  of  Law  will  so  be  rendered  more  comprehensible  •- 
but  chiefly  because  our  subsequent  course  will  thus  be  facilitated 
I  propose  here  to  enumerate  the  several  conditions  that  determim 
the  order  in  which  the  various  relations  among  phenomena  an 
discovered.  Seeing,  as  we  shall,  the  consequent  necessity  of  thir 
order,  and  enabled,  as  we  shall  also  be,  to  estimate  the  future  by 
inference  from  the  past,  we  shall  perceive  how  inevitable  is  an 
advance  towards  the  ultimatum  that  has  been  indicated. 

The  recognition  of  Law  being  the  recognition  of  uniformity  oi 
relations  among  phenomena,  it  follows  that  the  order  in  which 
different  groups  of  phenomena  are  reduced  to  law,  must  depend  on 
the  frequency  and  distinctions  with  which  the  uniform  relations 
they  severally  present  are  experienced.  At  any  given  stage  of  pro- 
gress, those  uniformities  will  be  most  recognised  with  which  men's 
minds  are  oftener  and  most  thoroughly  impressed.  In  proportion 
partly  to  the  number  of  times  a  relation  has  been  presented  to  con- 
sciousness (not  merely  to  the  senses) ;  and  in  proportion  partly 
to  the  vividness  with  which  the  terms  of  the  relation  have  been 
cognised,  will  be  the  degree  in  which  the  constancy  of  connexion 
is  perceived. 

The  frequency  and  impressiveness  with  which  different  classes 
of  relations  are  repeated  in  conscious  experience,  thus  primarily 


4-26 


APPENDIX. 


detennining  the  succession  in  which  they  are  generah'zed,  there 
result  certain  derivative  principles  to  which  this  succession  must 
more  immediately  and  obviously  conform.  First  in  importance 
comes  the  directness  with  which  personal  welfare  is  ajfected. 
While,  among  surrounding  things,  many  do  not  appreciably  in- 
fluence the  body  in  any  way,  some  act  detrimentally,  and  sonre 
beneficially,  in  various  degn'ees  ;  and  manifestly,  those  things  whose 
actions  on  the  organism  are  most  influential,  will,  cateris  paribus^ 
be  those  whose  laws  of  action  are  earliest  observed.  Second  in 
order  is,  the  consciousness  of  one  or  both  the  phenomena  between 
which  a  relation  is  to  be  perceived.  On  every  side  are  countless 
phenomena  so  concealed  as  to  be  detected  only  by  close  observa- 
tion ;  others  not  obtrusive  enough  to  attract  notice  ;  others  which 
moderately  solicit  the  attention  ;  others  so  imposing  or  vivid  as  to 
force  themselves  upon  consciousness  :  and,  supposing  incidental 
conditions  to  be  the  same,  these  last  will,  of  course,  be  among  the 
first  to  have  their  relations  generalized.  In  the  third  place,  we  have 
the  absolute  frequency  with  which  the  relations  occur.  There  are 
co-existences,  and  sequences  of  all  degrees  of  commonness,  from 
those  which  are  ever  present,  to  those  which  are  extremely  rare  ; 
and  it  is  clear  that  the  rare  co-existences  and  sequences,  as  well 
as  the  sequences  which  are  very  long  in  taking  place,  will  not 
be  reduced  to  law  so  soon  as  those  which  are  familiar  and  rapid 
Fourthly,  has  to  be  added,  the  relative  frequency  of  occurrence. 
Many  events  and  appearances  are  more  or  less  limited  to  times  and 
places  ;  and  as  a  relation  which  does  not  exist  within  the  environ- 
ment of  an  observer,  cannot  be  cognised  by  him,  however  common 
it  may  be  elsewhere  ;  or  in  another  age,  we  have  to  take  account 
of  the  surrounding  physical  circumstances,  as  well  as  the  state  o< 
society,  of  the  arts,  and  of  the  sciences  ;  all  of  which  aflect  the 
frequency  with  which  certain  groups  of  facts  are  exposed  to  obser- 
tion.  The  fifth  corollary  to  be  noticed  is,  that  the  succession  in 
which  different  classes  of  phenomena  are  reduced  to  law,  depends 
in  part  on  their  simplicity.  Phenomena  presenting  great  com- 
plexity oi  causes  or  conditions,  have  their  essential  relations 
so  masked,  that  it  requires  accumulated  experience  to  impress 
upon  consciousness  the  true  connexion  of  antecedents  and  conse- 
quents they  involve.  Hence,  other  things  equal,  the  progress  of 
generalization  will  be  from  the  simple  to  the  complex  ;  and  this  it 
is  which  M.  Comte  has  wrongly  asserted  to  be  the  sole  regulative 
principle  of  the  progress.  Sixth,  and  last,  comes  the  degree  oj 
abstractness.  Concrete  relations  are  the  earliest  acquisitions.  The 
colligation  of  any  group  of  these  into  a  general  relation,  which  is 
the  first  step  in  abstraction,  necessarily  comes  later  than  the  dis- 
covery of  the  relations  colligated.  The  union  of  a  number  of  these 
lowest  generalizations  into  a  higher  and  more  abstract  generali- 
sation, is  necessarily  subsequent  to  the  formation  of  such  lowest 
generalizations.  And  so  on  continually,  until  the  highest  and 
aiosi  abstract  generalizations  have  been  reached. 


DR.   J.   W.   DRAPER.  427 


DEFICIENCIES  OF  CLERICAL  EDUCATION. 

By  John  W.  Draper,  M.D.,  LL.D.,  of  the  University  of 
New  York. 

[From  "  Thoughts  en  the  Future  Civil  Policy  0/  America"  p.  273.) 

There  are  three  organs  of  public  instruction — the  School,  the 
Pulpit,  the  Press. 

As  respects  schools,  the  primary  condition  for  their  efficiency  is 
a  supply  of  well-trained  and  competent  teachers.  In  former  times 
the  education  of  youth  was  too  often  surrendered  to  persons  who 
had  become  superannuated  in  other  pursuits,  or  had  failed  in  them, 
or  had  been  left  in  destitute  circumstances.  But  little  heed  was 
given  by  parents  or  the  public  to  the  quality  of  the  information  im- 
parted in  these  concerns.  There  was  a  vague  notion,  which,  as  we 
shall  see,  still  unhappily  prevails  as  regards  the  higher  establish- 
ments of  education,  that  the  training  of  the  mind  is  of  more 
importance  than  the  nature  of  the  information  imparted  to  it. 

Normal  schools  for  the  preparation  of  teachers  must  necessarily 
be  an  essential  part  of  any  well-ordered  public-school  system.  In 
these,  young  persons  of  both  sexes  may  be  prepared  for  assuming 
the  duties  of  teaching.  The  rule  under  which  they  should  not  only 
be  taught,  but  likewise  subsequently  teach — the  rule  that  should  be 
made  to  apply  in  every  establishment,  from  the  primary  school  to 
the  university,  is  this — Education  should  represent  the  existing  state 
of  knowledge. 

But  in  America  this  golden  rule  is  disregarded,  especially  in  the 
case  of  the  higher  establishments.  What  is  termed  classical  learn- 
ing arrogates  to  itself  a  space  that  excludes  much  more  important 
things.  It  finds  means  to  appropriate,  practically,  all  collegiate 
honours.  This  evil  has  arisen  from  the  circumstance  that  our 
system  was  imported  from  England.  It  is  a  remnant  of  the  tone 
of  thought  of  that  country  in  the  sixteenth  century ;  meritorious 
enough  and  justifiable  enough  in  that  day,  but  obsolete  in  this. 
The  vague  impression  to  which  I  have  above  referred,  that  such 
pursuits  impart  a  training  to  the  mind,  has  long  sustained  this  in- 
appropriate course.  It  also  finds  an  excuse  in  its  alleged  power  of 
communicating  the  wisdom  of  past  ages.  The  grand  depositories 
of  Iniman  knowledge  are  not  the  ancient,  but  the  modern  tongues. 
Few,  if  any,  are  the  facts  worth  knowing  that  are  to  be  exclusively 
obtained  by  a  knowledge  of  Latin  and  Greek;  and  as.  to  mental 
discipline,  it  might  reasonably  be  inquired  how  much  a  youth  will 
secure  by  translating  daily  a  few  good  sentences  of  Latin  and 
Greek  into  bad  and  broken  English.  So  far  as  a  preparation  is 
required  for  the  subsequent  struggles  and  conflicts  of  life  —for  di$ 


4-28  APPENDIX. 

cerning  the  intentions  and  meeting  the  rivalries  of  competitors-  -foi 
skill  to  design  movements  and  carry  them  out  with  success-  for 
cultivating  a  clearness  of  perception  into  the  character  and  motives 
of  others,  and  for  imparting  a  decision  to  our  own  actions — so  fai 
as  these  things  are  concerned,  an  ingenious  man  would  have  no 
difficulty  in  maintaining  the  amusing  affirmation  that  more  might 
be  gained  from  a  mastery  of  tTie  game  of  chess  than  by  translating 
all  the  Greek  and  Latin  authors  in  the  world. 

The  remarks  I  am  thus  making  respecting  the  imperfections  of 
general  education  apply,  I  think,  very  forcibly  to  the  education  of 
the  clergy.  The  School,  the  Pulpit,  the  Press,  being  the  three  organs 
of  public  instruction,  a  right  preparation  of  the  clergy  for  their  duty 
is  of  as  much  moment  as  a  right  preparation  of  teachers  and 
journalists. 

In  the  education  of  the  American  clergyman  the  classical  element 
very  largely  predominates.  Indeed,  it  may  with  truth  be  affirmed 
that  it  is  to  no  inconsiderable  degree  for  the  sake  of  securing  such 
a  result  that  that  element  is  so  carefully  fostered  in  the  colleges, 
from  which  it  would  otherwise  have  long  ago  been  eliminated,  or, 
at  all  events,  greatly  reduced  in  prominence.  The  strength  of  this 
wish  is  manifested  by  the  munificent  endowments  with  which  many 

?ious  and  patriotic  men  have  sustained  classical  professorships, 
erhaps,  however,  they  do  not  sufficiently  reflect  that  the  position 
and  requirements  of  the  clergy  have  of  late  years  very  much 
changed.  Preaching  must  answer  to  the  mode  of  thinking  of  the 
congregations.  But  now  literary  authority  has  to  a  very  great 
degree  lost  its  force.  Elucidations  of  Scripture  and  the  defence  of 
doctrine,  in  modern  times,  require  modern  modes  of  treatment. 

But,  moreover,  in  one  important  respect  is  the  education  of  the 
clergy  defective.  Unhappily,  and,  it  may  be  added,  unnecessarily, 
there  has  arisen  an  apparent  antagonism  between  Theology  and 
Science.  Tradition  has  been  made  to  confront  discovery.  Now, 
the  discussion  and  correct  appreciation  of  any  new  scientific  fact 
requires  a  special  training,  a  special  stock  of  knowledge.  That 
training,  that  knowledge,  are  not  to  be  had  in  theological  senu- 
naries.  The  clergyman  is  thus  constrained  to  view  with  jealous 
distrust  the  rapid  advancement  of  practical  knowledge.  In  the 
case  of  any  new  fact,  his  inquiry  necessarily  is,  not  whether  it 
is  absolutely  true,  but  whether  Jt  is  in  accordance  with  con- 
ceptions he  considers  established  The  result  of  this  condition 
of  things  is,  that  many  of  the  most  important,  the  most  powerful 
and  exact  branches  of  human  knowledge,  have  been  forced  into 
a  position  they  never  would  have  voluntarily  assumed,  and  have 
been  compelled  to  put  themselves  on  their  defence — Astronomy, 
in  the  case  of  the  globular  form  of  the  earth,  and  its  position 
as  a  subordinate  planet ;  Geology,  as  respects  its  vast  antiquity ; 
Zoology,  on  the  problem  of  the  origin  of  species ;  Chemistry. 
on  the  unchangeability  of  matter  and  the  iudestruotibility  of 
force. 


DR.   J.   W.   DRAPER.  429 

In  thus  criticising  education  in  the  higher  American  establish- 
ments, I  present  views  that  have  forced  themselves  on  my  attention 
in  an  experience  of  thirty  years,  and  on  a  very  extensive  scale. 
Not  unfrequently  I  have  superintended  the  instruction,  professional 
or  otherwise,  of  nearly  four  hundred  young  men  in  the  course  of  a 
single  year,  and  have  had  unusual  opportunities  of  observing  their 
subsequent  course  of  life. 

The  education  of  the  clergy,  I  think,  is  not  equal  to  that  of 
physicians  or  lawyers.  The  provisions  are  sufficient,  and  the  time 
15  sufficient,  but  the  direction  is  faulty.  In  the  study  of  medicine 
ever>'thing  is  done  to  impart  to  the  pupil  a  knowledge  of  the 
present  state  of  the  subjects  or  sciences  with  which  he  is  concerned. 
The  profession  watches  with  a  jealous  eye  its  colleges,  exposing 
without  hesitation  any  shortcomings  i^.  'detects.  It  will  not  be 
satisfied  with  erudition,  it  insists  on  knowledge. 

But  such  modernised  instruction  is  actually  less  necessary  in  the 
life  of  a  physician  than  it  is  in  the  life  of  a  clergyman.  The  former 
pursues  his  daily  course  in  an  unobtrusive  way  ;  the  latter  is  com- 
jielled  by  his  position  to  publicity.  The  congregations  whom  he 
musi  meet  each  Sabbath  day,  and,  indeed,  perhaps  more  frequently, 
are  often  too  prone  to  substitutd  the  right  of  criticism  for  a  senti- 
n^nt  of  simple  devotion.  Very  few  among  them  can  appreciate 
the  monotonous,  the  wearing  strain  of  compulsory  mental  labour — 
labour  that  at  a  given  hour  must  with  punctuality  be  performed. 
On  topics  that  have  been  thought  about,  and  written  about,  and 
preached  about  for  nearly  twenty  centuries,  they  are  importunately 
and  unreasonably  demanding  something  new. 

In  that  ordeal  the  clergyman  spends  his  existence.  To  mamtain 
the  respect  that  is  his  due?  there  are  but  two  things  on  which  he 
can  rely — purity  of  life  and  knowledge.  Men  unconsciously  submit 
to  the  guidance  of  what  they  discern  to  be  superior  intelligence. 
Here  comes  into  disastrous  operation  the  defective  organization 
of  the  theological  seminaries.  Content  with  such  a  knowledge  of 
nature  as  might  have  answered  a  century  ago,  the  imposing  and 
ever-increasing  body  of  modern  science  they  decline.  And  yet  it 
is  that  science  and  its  practical  applications  which  are  now  guiding 
the  destinies  of  civilization. 

In  my  "History  of  the  Intellectual  Development  of  Europe''  1  have 
had  occasion  to  consider  the  consequences  of  the  Reformation,  and 
may  perhaps  be  excused  the  following  quotation  :  "  America,  in 
which,  of  all  countries,  the  Reformation  at  the  present  moment  has 
farthest  advanced,  should  offer  to  thoughtful  meji  much  encour|\ge- 
ment.  Its  cities  are  filled  with  churches,  built  lay  voluntary  gifts  ; 
its  clergy  are  voluntarily  sustained,  and  are  in  all  directions  engaged 
m  enterprises  of  piety,  education,  mercy.  What  a  difference  be- 
tween their  private  life  and  that  of  ecclesiastics  before  the  "Refor- 
mation !  Not,  as  in  the  old  times,  does  the  layman  look  upon  them 
as  the  cormorants  and  curse  of  society.  They  are  his  faithful 
advisers,  his  honoured  friends,  under  whose  suggestion  and  -super 


1-30  APPENDIX. 

vision  are  instituted  educational  establishments,  colleges,  hospitals, 
whatever  can  be  of  benefit  to  men  in  this  life,  or  secure  for  thein 
happiness  in  the  life  to  come." 

No  one  can  study  the  progress  of  modem  civilization  without 
being  continually  reminded  of  the  great,  it  might  be  said,  tlie 
mortal  mistake  committed  by  the  Roman  Church.  Had  it  put 
itself  forth  as  the  promoter  and  protector  of  science,  it  would  at 
this  day  have  exerted  an  unquestioned  dominion  all  over  Europe. 
Instead  of  being  the  stumbling-block,  it  would  have  been  the 
animating  agent  of  human  advancement  It  shut  the  Bible  only 
to  have  it  opened  forcibly  by  the  Reformation  ;  it  shut  the  book  of 
Nature,  but  has  found  it  impossible  to  keep  it  closed.  How  different 
the  result,  had  it  abandoned  the  obsolete  absurdities  of  patristicism, 
and  become  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  true  philosophy — had  it  lifted 
itself  to  a  comprehension  of  the  awful  magnificence  of  the  heavens 
above  and  the  glories  of  the  earth  beneath — had  it  appreciated  the 
immeasurable  vastness  of  the  universe,  its  infinite  multitude  of 
worlds,  its  inconceivable  past  duration  !  How  different,  if  in  place 
of  for  ever  looking  backward,  it  had  only  looked  forward — bowing 
itself  down  in  a  world  of  life  and  light,  instead  of  worshipping,  in 
tlie  charnel-house  of  antiquity,  the  skeletons  of  twenty  centuries  ! 
How  different,  had  it  hailed  with  transport  the  discoveries  and  in- 
ventions of  human  genius,  instead  of  scowling  upon  them  with  a 
malignant  and  baleful  eye  !  How  different,  had  it  canonized  the 
great  men  who  have  been  the  interpreters  of  Nature,  instead  of 
anathematizing  them  as  Atheists  ! 

In  our  national  development  it  is  for  the  American  clergy  to  shun 
that  great,  that  fatal  mistake.  It  is  for  them  to  remember  that  the 
Reformation  remains  only  half  compleled,  until  to  the  free  reading 
of  the  Book  of  God  there  is  added  the  free  reading  of  the  Book 
of  Nature.  It  is  for  them  to  remember  that  there  are  two  volumes 
of  Revelation — the  Word  and  the  Works  ;  and  that  it  is  the  inde- 
feasible right  of  every  man  to  study  and  interpret  them  both, 
according  to  the  light  given  him,  without  molestation  or  punish- 
ment. 

Since  the  invention  of  printing,  the  power  of  the  pulpit  has  beeii 
subordinated  to  the  power  of  the  press,  which  is  continually  gather- 
ing force  from  the  increasing  diffusion  of  education.  In  Ajnerica 
the  newspaper  has  become  a  necessary  of  life.  It  makes  its  suc- 
cessful appearance  in  villages  of  which  the  population  would  be 
considered,  in  other  countries,  inadequate  for  its  support  Cheap 
reading  is  to  be  had  everywhere.  The  consequence  is,  that  all 
sides  of  a  question  are  apt  to  be  read.  It  is  affirmed  that  the  con- 
sumption of  paper  in  America,  for  printing  and  writing,  is  nior« 
than  that  of  England  and  France  put  together. 


DR.   EDWARD   SEGUIN.  43 J 


THE  PHYSIOLOGICAL  BASIS  OF  PRIMARY  EDUCATION. 

By  Edward  Seguin,  M.D. 

{I'rom  his  recent  work,  '■'■Idiocy,  and  its  Treatment  by  thu 
Physiological  Method"  published  by  William  Wood  and  Co. 
New  York.) 

Thus  education  connects  a  small  body  with  all  bodies,  a  small 
intellect  v«ith  the  general  laws  of  the  universe,  through  specific 
instruments  of  perception. 

This  being  the  law  of  perception  of  phenomena,  it  does  not 
matter  through  which  sense  we  perceive;  the  same  operation  being 
entirely  from  the  mind,  is  always  identical  with  itself;  this  law  is 
nothing  less  than  the  principle  of  our  physiological  method  of 
education. 

Thence  the  law  of  evolution  of  the  function  of  the  senses  ending 
in  intellectual  faculty,  rules  from  the  youngest  child  to  the  most 
encyclopaedic  nervous  apparatus.  A  corollary  law  to  this,  is  the 
mode  of  perception  and  idealization  of  the  impressions  according  to 
certain  conditions,  conformable  to  the  teachings  of  anatomy  and 
physiology.  One  thing  at  a  time,  is  the  law  of  sensorial  perception 
for  inferior  animals.  As  many  things  at  a  time  as  necessary  to  form 
a  complete  idea,  is  the  law  for  the  intellectual  comprehension  of 
man.  In  animals  some  senses  are  more  perfect  than  in  man,  hence 
their  sensations  are  more  perfect  than  ours  ;  nevertheless,  theirs 
being  received  in  singleness  and  registered  without  associations, 
cannot  become  ideas,  because  their  notions  acquired  alone,  live  or 
die  alone,  incapable  of  fecundation  ;  the  lower  animals  are  as  far 
down  as  that. 

But  we  cannot  study  the  progress  of  sensorial  and  intellectual 
evolution  without  finding  already  animals  inferior  to  mammalia 
which  register  their  sensations  and  feelings  in  comparison  with 
each  other,  and  with  a  meaning  attached  to  them.  These  animals 
must  receive  compared  and  comparable  impressions,  to  be  capable 
of  combining  them  presently  or  hereafter,  to  form  new  judgments 
and  determinations.  The  ant,  the  bee,  the  spider,  the  blue-fly  and 
many  more,  give  evidence  of  their  power  of  idealizing  notions,  and 
of  the  rationality  of  their  determinations.  But  for  the  immense 
majority  of  animals,  the  rule  seems  to  be  one  perception  at  a  time, 
whose  isolated  notion  is  incapable  of  entering  into  collections  of 
images,  parents  to  ideas.  Though  every  observation  points  to  the 
probable  issue  of  this  difference  between  man  and  brutes,  as  being 
only  a  gradation,  whose  lowest  strata  begins  lower  than  the  corals, 
which  know  in  what  direction  to  build  and  propagate,  and  ends 
si'^ere  man  does  not  yet  dare  to  aspire.     However,  few  minds  are 


13*  APPENDIX. 

J»repared  for  this  affirmation,  unless  it  could  be  supported  by  th« 
bIlo\ving  observation  : — 

In  the  nervous  apparatus  of  animals,  the  sensory  gan},'lia  are 
larger  than  the  hemispheres  in  proportion  to  the  development  of 
their  respective  functions  ;  sensorial  perceptions  being  in  them  more 
extensive  than  the  ideal  products  of  comparison.  On  the  contrarj-, 
in  our  human  nervous  system,  the  intellectual  ganglia  are  larger 
than  the  sensorial  ones  in  proportion  to  the  predominance  of  the 
reflective  and  willed  above  the  perceptive  faculties. 

The  following  remarks  constitute  the  psychological  corollary  to 
this  observation. 

The  motor  of  life  in  animals  is  mostly  centripetal ;  the  motor  of 
life  in  man  is  mostly  centrifugal.  But  how  many  uneducated,  or 
viciously  educated  men  display  none  but  the  ferocious  centripetal 
power  of  the  beast :  while  a  dog  shall  affront  death  to  defend  his 
master,  that  master  may  work  the  ruin  of  twenty  families  to  satisfy 
a  single  brute  appetite  ;  nevertheless,  the  motor  in  the  beast  is 
called  instinct,  in  man  soul.  Well,  we  will  say  yes  ;  instinct,  when 
a  wild,  uneducated,  or  uneducable  stock  ;  soul,  when  engrafted  by 
education  and  revelation.  As  a  generality,  however,  animals  have 
only  a  centripetal  or  individual  life ;  men,  educated  and  partici- 
pating in  the  incessant  revelation,  have  a  social  and  centrifugal 
existence  also,  being,  feeling,  thinking,  in  mankind,  as  mankind  is, 
feels,  and  progresses  in  God  What  can  be  done  to  a  certain 
extent  for  brutes,  may  be  done  for  idiots  and  their  congeners  ;  their 
life  may  be  rendered  more  centrifugal,  that  is  to  say  more  social,  by 
education. 

True,  this  view  of  our  subject  and  of  our  race  would  not  deprive 
animals  of  some  kind  of  soul.  But  our  mind  must  have  already 
become  familiar  with  that  sort  of  concessions  ;  since  women,  Jews, 
peasants,  Sudras,  Parias,  Indians,  negroes,  imbeciles,  insane,  idiots, 
are  not  now  denied  a  soul,  as  they  were  once  by  religious  or  civil 
ordinances.  Nations  have  perished  by  the  over-educating  of  a 
few  ;  mankind  can  be  improved  only  by  the  elevation  of  the  lowest 
through  education  and  comfort,  which  substitute  harmony  to  anta- 
gonism, and  make  all  beings  feel  the  unity  of  what  circulates  in  all, 
life. 

Contrarily  to  the  teachings  of  various  mythologfies  of  the  brain, 
and  with  the  disadvantage  of  working  against  the  prevalent 
anthropological  formula,  we  were  obliged  at  the  same  time  to  use 
most  of  its  terms  ;  we  have  developed  our  child,  not  like  a  duality, 
nor  like  a  trinity,  nor  like  an  illimited  poly-entity,  but,  as  nearly  as 
we  could,  like  a  unit.  It  is  true  that  the  unity  of  the  physiolc^ical 
training  could  not  be  gone  through  without  concessions  to  the  lan- 
guage of  the  day,  nor  to  necessities  of  analysis,  quite  repugnant  to 
the  piinciple ;  it  is  true  that  we  have  been  speaking  of  muscular, 
ncr\-ous,  or  sensorial  functions,  as  of  things  as  distmct  for  us  as 
muscles,  nerves,  and  bones  are  for  the  anatomist ;  but  after  a  long 
struggle  with   these  difficulties,  psycho-physiology  vindicated  iu 


DR.   EDWARD   SEGUIN.  433 

rights  against  the  feebleness  of  our  understanding,  and  the  mincing 
of  our  vocabularies. 

We  looked  at  the  rather  immovable,  or  ungovernable  mass  called 
an  idiot  with  the  faith  that  where  the  appearance  displayed  nothing 
but  ill-organized  matter,  there  was  nothing  but  ill-circumstanced 
animus.  In  answer  to  that  conviction,  v/hen  we  educated  the 
muscles,  contractility  responded  to  our  bidding  with  a  spark  from 
volition  ;  we  exercised  severally  the  senses,  but  an  impression  could 
not  be  made  on  their  would-be  material  nature,  without  the  impres- 
sion taking  its  rank  among  the  accumulated  idealities  ;  we  were  en- 
larging the  chest,  and  new  voices  came  out  from  it,  expressing  new 
ideas  and  feelings  ;  we  strengthened  the  hand,  and  it  became  the 
realizer  of  ideal  creations  and  labour  ;  we  started  imitation  as  a 
passive  exercise,  and  it  soon  gave  rise  to  all  sorts  of  spontaneous 
actions  ;  we  caused  pain  and  pleasure  to  be  felt  through  the  skin  or 
the  palate,  and  the  idiot,  in  answer,  tried  to  please  by  the  exhibition 
of  his  new  moral  qualities  :  in  fact,  we  could  not  touch  a  fibre  of 
his,  without  receiving  back  the  vibration  of  his  all-souled  instru- 
ment. 

In  opposition  to  this  testimony  of  the  unity  of  our  nature  given 
by  idiots,  since  they  receive  a  physiological  education,  might  be 
arrayed  the  testimony  of  millions  of  children  artificially  developed 
by  dualistic  or  other  antagonistic  systems  ;  as  millions  of  ox  and 
horse  teams  testified  to  the  powerlessness  of  steam.  The  fact  that 
dualism  is  not  in  our  nature  but  in  our  sufferings,  is  self-evident. 
Average  men  who  oppose  everything,  were  compressed  from  birth 
in  some  kind  of  swaddling  bands ;  those  who  abhor  study  were 
forced  to  it  as  to  punishment  ;  those  who  gormandize  were 
starved  ;  those  who  lie  were  brought  to  it  by  fear  ;  those  who  hate 
labour  have  been  reduced  to  work  for  others  ;  those  who  covet 
were  deprived  :  everywhere  oppression  creates  the  exogenous 
element  of  dualism.  Of  the  two  terms  of  "the  house  divided 
against  itself,"  one  is  the  right  owner,  the  other  is  evidently  the  in- 
truder. We  have  done  away  with  the  last  in  educating  idiots,  not 
by  repression,  which  would  have  created  it,  but  by  ignoring  it. 

One  of  the  earliest  and  most  fatal  antagonisms  taught  to  a  child 
is  the  forbidding  of  using  his  hands  to  ascertain  the  qualities  of 
surrounding  objects,  of  which  his  sight  gives  him  but  an  imperfect 
notion,  if  it  be  not  aided  by  the  touch  ;  and  of  breaking  many 
things  as  well,  to  acquire  the  proper  idea  of  solidity.  The  imbe- 
cility of  parents  in  these  matters  has  too  often  favoured  the  growth 
of  the  evil  spirit.  The  youngest  child,  when  he  begins  to  totter  on 
his  arched  legs,  goes  about  touching,  handling,  breaking  every- 
thing. It  is  our  duty  to  foster  and  direct  that  beautiful  curiosity, 
to  make  it  the  regular  channel  for  the  acquisition  of  correct  per- 
ceptions and  tactile  accuracy  ;  as  for  breaking,  it  must  be  turned 
into  the  desire  of  preservation  a^  d  the  power  of  holding  with  the 
will  ;  nothing  is  so  simple,  as  the  following  example  will  denion- 
stjaie : — 


f34  APPENDIX. 

Once  a  very  excitable  child,  eighteen  months  old,  touching, 
breaking,  throwing  ever)'thing  he  could,  seemed  really  ready,  if  he 
had  been  once  punished  for  it,  to  become  possessed  by  the  old  in- 
truder ;  but  it  was  not  our  plan.  We  bought  unmatched  Sevrt'i 
cups  and  Bohemia  glasses,  really  splendid  to  look  at,  and  served 
the  child  in  one  of  them,  after  showing  him  the  elegance  of  the 
pattern,  the  richness  of  the  colours,  everything  which  could  please 
and  attach  him  to  the  object.  But  he  had  no  sooner  drunk  than  he 
threw  the  glass  away.  Not  a  word  was  said,  not  a  piece  removed 
from  where  it  fell  ;  but  the  next  time  he  was  thirsty,  we  brought 
him  where  the  fragments  lay,  and  let  him  feel  more  thirst  before  we 
could  find  another  glass  equally  beautiful.  Some  more  were  broken 
in  the  same  petulant  spirit  ;  but  later,  he  slowly  dropped  one, 
when,  at  the  same  time,  he  looked  into  our  eyes  to  catch  signs  of 
anger.  But  there  were  none  there,  nor  in  the  voice ;  only  the 
composure  and  accent  of  pity  for  the  child  who  could  willingly 
incur  such  a  loss.  Since  then,  baby  took  good  care  of  his  cups  and 
glasses,  finer  than  ours  ;  he  taught  his  little  fingers  how  to  embrace 
with  security  the  thin  neck  of  one,  the  large  body,  or  the  diminu- 
tive handle  of  others.  In  practising  these  so  varied  handlings,  his 
mind  became  saving  and  his  hands  a  model  of  accuracy. 


ON  MODERN  COLLEGIATE  STUDIES. 

{Extract  from  an  Adtiress  delivered  at  Union  Ctlleee^  Schenectady, 
N.  v.,  by  Francis  Wavland,  D.D.) 

Ip  you  will  allow  me  to  commence  with  an  elementar>'  thought,  I 
would  remark,  that  every  act  of  the  mind  ends  in  a  knowledge, 
sometimes  only  subjective,  but  generally  both  subjective  and  objec- 
tive. Thus  1  am  conscious  of  a  simple  emotion  ;  here  is  a  mental 
act,  a  mere  subjective  knowledge.  I  perceive  a  tree  ;  here  is  a 
subjective  consciousness  and  an  objective  knowledge.  And,  on  the 
other  hand,  every  knowledge /r^j-w/>/«7i^£'j  an  act  of  mind  ;  for  were 
there  no  mind,  or  were  the  mind  incapable  of  action,  knowledge 
would  be  impossible. 

From  this  simple  and  obvious  fact,  it  has  naturally  come  to  pass 
that  men  have  looked  upon  the  subject  of  education  in  two  distinct 
points  of  view,  as  they  have  contemplated  either  the  act  o(  mind, 
or  the  knowledge  in  which  it  results.  Hence,  some  have  considered 
education  to  consist  merely  in  the  communication  of  knowledge  ; 
others  almost  entirely  in  the  discipline  of  mind.  If  the  first  be  our 
object,  it  will  be  successfully  accomplished  precisely  in  proportion 
to  the  ?mount  and  the  value  of  the  knowledge  which  we  commu- 
nicate. If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  desire  simply  to  cultivate  the 
intellect,  our  success  must  be  measured  by  the  number  of  faculties 
which  we  improve,  and  the  degree  of  culture  which  we  have  im 
parted  to  them. 


DR.   WAYLAND.  433 

It  is,  I  presume,  for  this  reason,  that  a  division  has,  to  a  con- 
siderable degree,  been  established  between  the  studies  which  enter 
into  our  course  of  higher  education.  Some  of  them,  of  which  the 
results  are  acknowledged  to  be  in  general  valueless,  are  prosecuted 
on  account  of  the  mental  discipline  whicli  they  are  supposed  to 
impart.  That  they  tend  to  nothing  practical,  has  sometimes  been 
deemed  their  appropriate  excellence.  Hence,  some  learned  men 
have  exulted  rather  facetiously  in  the  "  glorious  inutility  "  of  the 
studies  which  they  recommend.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are 
many  studies  which  communicate  knowledge,  admitted  by  ali 
men  to  be  indispensable,  which  are  supposed  to  convey  no  mental 
discipline,  or,  at  least,  only  that  which  is  of  the  most  elementary 
character.  Hence,  you  at  once  perceive  that  a  wide  ground  for 
debate  is  afforded,  which  writers  on  education  have  not  been  back- 
ward to  occupy.  Hence,  also,  the  various  discussions  on  the  best 
methods  of  education,  which  seem  to  me  to  approach  with  but 
slow  and  unequal  steps  to  any  definite  conclusion.  The  studies 
which  are  most  relied  on  for  mental  discipline,  for  instance,  are 
the  classics  and  the  mathematics.  While  the  advocates  for  these 
discard,  almost  contemptuously,  all  other  methods  of  culture,  they 
are  by  no  means  agreed  among  themselves.  The  mathematicians 
look  with  small  favour  upon  the  lovers  of  lexicons,  and  paradigms, 
and  accents  ;  and  claim  that  nothing  but  exact  science  can  in- 
vigorate the  power  of  ratiocination,  on  which  all  certainty  of  know- 
ledge depends.  The  philologists,  on  the  other  hand,  inveigh  in  no 
measured  terms  against  the  narrow  range  of  mathematical  culture, 
and  boldly  affirm  that  it  unfits  men  for  all  reasoning  concerning 
matter  actually  existing,  while  it  withers  up  every  delicate  senti- 
ment and  turns  into  an  arid  waste  the  entire  field  of  our  emotional 
nature.  Here  issue  is  joined,  and  I  am  compelled  in  truth  to  add, 
adhuc  sub  judice  lis  est. 

But  is  it  not  possible  to  escape  from  the  smoke  and  din  of  this 
controversy,  and  look  upon  this  question  from  a  somewhat  higher 
point  of  view  t  It  may,  I  think,  be  safely  taken  for  granted,  that 
the  system  of  which  we  form  a  part,  is  the  work  of  a  Being  of  in- 
finite wisdom  and  infinite  benevolence.  He  made  the  world  with- 
out us  and  the  world  within  us,  and  He  manifestly  made  each  of 
them  for  the  other.  He  has  made  knowledge,  intellectual  culture, 
and  progress,  all  equally  necessaiy  to  our  individual  and  social 
.veil-being.  He  abhors  all  castes,  and  desires  that  every  one  of  his 
children  shall  enjoy  to  the  full  all  the  means  of  happiness  which 
have  been  committed  to  his  trust.  Is  it  then  to  be  supposed  that 
He  has  made  for  our  brief  probation  two  kinds  of  knowledge  ;  one 
xiecessary  for  the  attainment  of  our  means  of  happiness,  but  in- 
capable of  nourishing  and  strengthening  the  soul ;  and  the  other, 
tending  to  self-culture,  but  leading  to  no  single  practical  advantage? 
Shall  we  beheve  that  the  God  and  Father  of  all  has  made  the  many 
to  labour  by  blind  rules  for  the  good  of  the  few,  without  the  possi- 
bility of  spiritual  elevation  ;  and  the  few  to  learn  nothing  that  shall 


f36  APPENDIX. 

promote  the  happiness  of  the  whole,  living  on  the  labours  of  others, 
selfishly  building  themselves  up  in  intellectual  superiority?  Is  it 
not  rather  to  be  believed,  that  He  has  made  each  of  these  ends  to 
harmonize  with  the  other,  so  that  all  intellectual  culture  shall  issue 
in  knowledge  which  shall  confer  benefits  on  the  whole  ;  and  all 
knowledge  properly  acquired,  shall  in  an  equal  degree  tend  to  intel- 
lectual development  ? 

These  expectations  seem  to  me  to  be  reasonable.  If  so,  we 
might  surely  anticipate  that  all  knowledge  acquired  according  to  the 
estabUshed  laws  of  mind,  would  be  productive  of  self-culture.  Nay, 
we  might  suppose  that  that  which  God  had  made  most  necessary 
to  our  existence,  would  be,  in  the  highest  degree,  self-disciplinary. 
Thus  every  one,  whatever  his  position,  may  well  be  supposed  to 
possess  the  means  of  developing  his  own  powers,  and  arriving  at 
the  standing  of  an  intellectual  man.  There  is  nothing  in  the  nature 
of  any  occupation  that  renders  such  an  expectation  extravagant. 
The  uncles  of  Hugh  Miller  were  highly  cultivated  men,  reading  the 
best  books,  concerning  one  of  whom  he  remarks,  "  there  are  pro- 
fessors of  natural  history  who  know  less  of  living  nature  than  was 
known  by  uncle  Sandy ; "  and  yet  one  of  them  was  a  harness- 
maker,  and  the  other  a  stone-mason  ;  each  labouring  industriously 
at  his  calling,  for  daily  bread,  for  six  days  in  the  week. 

But  if  we  take  no  account  of  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  and  con- 
fine ourselves  simply  to  intellectual  culture,  I  apprehend  that  we  shall 
arrive  at  substantially  the  same  result.  Suppose  that  our  sole  object 
is  to  develop  the  powers  of  the  human  mmd.*  We  must  then  first 
ask  what  are  these  powers.  It  will  be  sufficient  for  our  present 
purpose  to  consider  the  following,  as  they  are  allowed  to  be  the 
most  important  :  Perception,  by  which  we  arrive  at  a  knowledge  of 
the  phenomena  of  the  world  without  us  ;  Consciousness,  by  which 
we  oecome  aware  of  the  changes  in  the  world  within  us  ;  Ab- 
straction and  Generalization,  by  which  our  knowledge  of  individuals 
becomes  the  knowledge  of  classes ;  Reasoning,  by  which  we  use 
the  known  to  discover  the  unknown  ;  Imagination,  by  which  we 
construct  pictures  in  poetry  and  ideals  in  philosophy  ;  and  Memory, 
by  which  all  these  various  forms  of  past  knowledge  are  recalled 
and  made  available  for  the  present. 

Now,  if  such  be  the  powers  conferred  on  us  by  our  Creator,  it 
must,  I  think,  be  admitted  that  each  of  them  is  designed  for  a  par- 
ticular purpose,  and  that  a  human  mind  would  be  fatally  deficient 
were  any  one  of  them  wanting.  In  our  cultivation  of  mind,  then, 
we  must  have  respect  not  to  one  or  two  of  them,  but  to  all  ;  since 
that  is  the  most  perfect  mind  in  which  all  of  them  are  the  most 
fully  developed. 

If,  then,  we  desire  to  improve  the  intellect  of  man  by  study,  it  is 
obvious  that  that  study  will  be  the  best  adapted  to  our  purpose 
which  cultivates  not  one,  but  all,  of  these  faculties,  and  cultivates 
them  ail  most  thoroughly.  Wc  cultivate  our  powers  of  every  kind 
by  exercise,  and  that  study  will  most  effectually  aid  us  in  the  work 


DR.   WAYLAND.  437 

of  self-development,  which  requires  the  original  exercise  of  the 
greatest  number  of  them. 

Supposing  this  to  be  admitted,  which  I  think  will  not  be  denied, 
the  question  will  arise  what  studies  are  best  adapted  to  our  purpose. 
This  is  a  question  which  cannot  be  settled  by  authority.  We  arc  just 
as  capable  of  deciding  it  as  the  men  who  have  gone  before  us.  They 
were  once,  Uke  ourselves,  men  of  the  present,  and  their  wisdom  has 
not  certainly  received  any  addition  from  the  slumber  of  centuries. 
They  may  have  been  able  to  judge  correctly  for  the  time  that  then 
was,  but  could  they  revisit  us  now,  they  might  certainly  be  no 
better  able  than  ourselves  to  judge  correctly  for  the  time  that  now 
is.  If  any  of  us  should  be  heard  of  200  years  hence,  it  would 
surely  be  strange  folly  for  the  men  of  A.D.  2054  to  receive  our  say- 
ings  as  oracles  concerning  the  conditions  of  society  which  will  be 
then  existing.  God  gives  to  every  age  the  means  for  perceiving 
its  own  wants  and  discovering  the  best  manner  of  supplying  them  ; 
and  it  is,  therefore,  certainly  best  that  every  age  should  decide 
such  questions  for  itself.  We  cannot,  certainly,  decide  them  by 
authority. 

There  are  two  methods  by  which  we  can  determine  the  truth  in 
this  matter.  First,  we  may  examine  any  particular  study  and  ob- 
serve the  faculties  of  mind  which  it  does  and  which  it  does  not  call 
into  action.  Every  reasonable  man,  at  all  acquainted  with  the 
nature  of  his  own  mind,  will  be  able  to  do  this.  Take,  for  instance, 
the  studies  which  are  pursued  for  the  sake  merely  of  discipline. 
Do  they  call  into  exercise  one  or  many  of  our  faculties  ?  Suppose 
they  cultivate  the  reasoning  power,  and  the  power  of  poetic  com- 
bination ;  do  they  do  anything  else  ?  If  not,  what  have  we  by 
which  to  improve  the  powers  of  observation,  of  consciousness,  of 
generalization,  and  combination,  these  most  important  and  most 
valuable  of  our  faculties?  If,  then,  their  range  be  so  limited,  it 
may  be  deserving  of  inquiry  whether  some  studies  which  can  im- 
prove a  larger  number  of  our  faculties  might  not  sometimes  take 
their  places  ;  and  yet  more,  whether  they  should  occupy  so  large  a 
portion  of  the  time  devoted  to  education. 

But  we  may  examme  the  subject  by  another  test.  We  may  ask 
what  are  the  results  actually  produced  by  devotion  to  those  studies 
which  are  allowed  to  be  merely  disciplinary.  We  teach  the  mathe- 
matics to  cultivate  the  reasoning  power,  and  the  languages  to  im- 
prove the  imagination  and  the  taste.  We  then  may  very  properly 
inquire,  are  mathematicians  better  reasoners  than  other  men,  ia 
matters  not  mathematical  ?  As  a  student  advances  in  the  mathe- 
matics, do  we  find  his  powers  of  ratiocination,  in  anything  but  the 
relations  of  quantity,  to  be  visibly  improved .?  Are  philologists  or 
classical  students  more  likely  to  become  poets,  or  artists,  than  other 
men  ;  or,  does  their  style  by  this  mode  of  discipline  approach 
more  nearly  to  the  classical  models  of  their  own,  or  of  any  other 
language  ? 

It  is  bv  such  considerations  as  these  that  this  question  is  to  be 


«8 


APPENDIX. 


answered.  We  have  long  since  abjured  all  belief  in  magical  in- 
fluences. If  we  cannot  discover  any  law  of  nature  by  which  a 
cause  produces  its  effect,  and  are  unable  to  perceive  that  the  effect 
is  produced,  we  begin  to  doubt  whether  any  causation  exists  in  the 
matter. 

If  there  be  any  truth  in  the  foregoing  remarks,  they  would  seem 
to  lead  us  to  the  following  conclusions  : — 

First,  that  every  branch  of  study  should  be  so  taught  as  to 
accomplish  both  the  results  of  which  we  have  been  speaking  ;  that 
is,  that  it  should  not  only  increase  our  knowledge,  but  also  confer 
valuable  discipline  ;  and  that  it  should  not  only  confer  valuable 
discipline,  but  also  increase  our  knowledge :  and  that,  if  it  does 
not  accomplish  both  of  these  results,  there  is  either  some  defect  in 
our  mode  of  teaching,  or  the  study  is  imperfectly  adapted  to  the 
purposes  of  education. 

Secondly,  that  there  seems  no  good  reason  for  claiming  pre- 
eminence for  one  study  over  another,  at  least  in  the  .manner  to 
which  we  have  been  accustomed.  The  studies  merely  disciplinary 
have  valuable  practical  uses.  To  many  pursuits  they  are  important, 
and  to  some  indispensable.  Let  them,  then,  take  their  projser  place 
in  any  system  of  good  learning,  and  claim  nothing  more  than  \o  be 
judged  of  by  their  results.  Let  them  no^  be  the  unmeaning  shib- 
Doleth  of  a  caste  ;  but,  standing  on  the  same  level  with  all  other 
intellectual  pursuits,  be  valued  exactly  in  proportion  to  their  ability 
to  increase  the  power  and  range  and  skill  of  the  human  mind,  and 
to  furnish  it  with  that  knowledge  which  shall  most  signally  pro- 
mote the  well-being  and  happiness  of  humanity. 

And,  thirdly,  it  would  seem  that  our  whole  system  of  instruction 
requires  an  honest,  thorough,  and  candid  revision.  It  has  been  for 
centuries  the  child  of  authority  and  precedent.  If  those  before  us 
made  it  what  it  is,  by  applying  to  it  the  resources  of  earnest  and 
fearless  thought,  I  can  see  no  reason  why  we,  by  pursuing  the  same 
course,  might  not  improve  it.  God  intended  us  for  progress,  and 
we  counteract  his  design  when  we  deify  antiquity,  and  bow  down 
and  worship  tin  opinion,  not  because  it  is  either  wise  or  txue,  but 
merely  because  it  is  ancient. 


ON  THOROUGHNESS   OF   INTELLECTUAL  ATTAIN- 
MENT. 

(Ertract  from  a  Lecture  delivered  at  University  College,  London^ 
by  Professor  A.  De  Morgan.) 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  education  is  to  be  considered : 
that  is  to  say.  with  reference  to  its  effect  upon  the  character  and 
disposition  of  the  individual,  and  also  with  reference  to  the  degree 
of  power  and  energy  which  is  communicated  to  the  mind.     Now, 


PROFESSOR   DE   MORGAN.  439 

firstly,  with  respect  to  character  as  formed  by  education,  it  is  hardly 
necessary  to  say  that  knowledge,  to  be  useful  in  its  effect  upon 
habits,  must  be  both  liberal  and  accurate — must  deal  in  reasoning 
and  inference,  and  in  sound  reasoning  and  correct  inference.  So 
much  is  admitted  by  all  ;  but  I  desire  to  be  understood  as  going 
further.  In  looking  over  the  various  branches  of  human  inquiry,  I 
do  r.ot  find  that  what  is  learned  in  a  second  period  is  merely  a 
certain  portion  added  to  that  which  was  acquired  in  the  first.  If  I 
were  to  teach  geometry  for  two  months,  I  conceive  that  the  geome- 
try of  the  second  month  would  not  merely  double  the  amount  which 
the  student  gained  in  the  first,  but  would  be,  as  it  were,  a  new  study, 
showing  other  features  and  giving  additional  powers,  with  the  ad- 
vantage of  its  being  evident  that  the  second  step  is  the  development 
and  consequence  of  the  first.  Suppose  that,  instead  of  employing 
the  second  month  in  geometry,  I  had  turned  the  attention  of  the 
student  to  algebra,  would  he  have  been  a  gainer  by  the  change  ?  I 
answer  confidently  in  the  negative. 

To  carry  this  further,  let  us  take  the  whole  career  of  the  learner, 
and  apply  the  same  argument.  There  is  in  every  branch  of  know- 
ledge a  beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end  :  a  beginning,  in  which  the 
student  is  striving  with  new  and  difficult  principles,  and  in  which 
he  is  relying  in  a  great  measure  on  the  authority  of  his  instructor  ; 
a  middle,  in  which  he  has  gained  some  confidence  in  his"own  know- 
ledge, and  some  power  of  applying  his  first  principles.  He  is  now 
in  a  state  of  danger,  so  far  as  the  estimate  which  he  is  likely  to 
form  of  himself  is  concerned.  He  has  as  yet  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  his  career  can  be  checked — nothing  to  humble  the  high  notion 
which  he  will  entertain  of  himself,  his  teachers,  and  his  subject. 
Let  him  only  proceed,  and  he  will  come  to  '"hat  1  have  called  the 
end  of  the  subject,  and  will  begin  to  see  that  there  is,  if  not  a 
boundary,  yet  the  commencement  of  a  region  which  has  not  been 
tracked  and  surveyed,  and  in  which  not  all  the  skill  which  he 
has  acquired  in  voyaging  by  the  chart  will  save  him  from  losing  his 
way.  It  is  at  this  period  of  his  career  that  he  will  begin  to  form  a 
true  opinion  of  his  own  mind,  which,  I  fully  believe,  is  not  done  by 
many  persons,  simply  because  they  have  never  been  allowed  to 
pursue  any  branch  of  inquiry  to  the  extent  which  is  necessary  to 
show  them  where  their  power  ends. 

For  this  reason  I  think  that,  whatever  else  may  be  done,  some 
one  subject,  at  least,  should  be  well  and  thoroughly  investigated, 
for  the  sake  of  giving  the  proper  tone  to  the  mind  upon  the  use, 
province,  and  extent  of  knowledge  in  general.  I  might  insist  upon 
other  points  connected  with  the  disposition  which  a  want  of  depth 
upon  all  subjects  is  likely  to  produce  ;  but  if  what  I  have  said  be 
founded  in  reason,  it  is  amply  sufficient  to  justify  my  recommen- 
dation that,  for  character's  sake,  there  should  be  in  every  liberal 
education  at  least  one  subject  thoroughly  studied.  What  the 
subject  should  be  is  comparatively  of  minor  importance,  and 
might,  perhaps,  be  left  in  some  degree  to  the  student  himself. 
29 


^40  APPENDIX. 

Neither  is  it  necessary,  as  to  the  point  just  considered,  that  every 
study  which  is  undertaken  should  be  pursued  to  the  same  depth. 
Convince  the  mind  by  one  example,  and  the  similarity  which  exists 
between  all  branches  of  knowledge  will  teach  the  same  truth  for  all. 
1  now  proceed  with  the  consideration  of  the  subject,  in  connexion 
with  the  power  which  is  derived  from  deep  study,  and  which  is  not 
to  be  obtained  without. 

The  powers  which  we  expect  to  give  by  liberal  education,  or  at 
least  a  very  considerable  portion  of  the  whole,  may  be  comprised 
under  two  heads,  which  I  will  take  separately. 

Firstly,  it  is  one  of  the  most  important  points  of  education  that 
the  subject  of  it  should  be  made  a  good  learner.  What  is  it  that 
can  be  done  before  the  age  of  twenty-one,  either  at  school  or  col- 
lege ?  Is  the  education  then  finished  ?  Is  the  pupil  to  pursue  no 
branch  of  study,  further .'  Nay,  docs  not  a  professional  career  open 
upon  him  immediately  "i  He  is  thrown  upon  the  world  to  learn, 
with  the  resources  of  his  education  to  rely  on,  and  little  other  help  ; 
for  it  is  well  known  that,  throughout  our  different  plans  of  profes- 
sional education,  there  is  found  but  a  small  amount  of  teaching, 
with  free  permission  for  the  aspirant  to  teach  himself.  Now,  in 
this  new  career  there  is  no  stopping  half  way,  in  accordance  with  a 

Erevious  system  of  education,  in  which  many  subjects  were  only 
alf  taughL  The  law)'er  or  physician  must  be  a  finished  lawyer  or 
physician,  able  to  investigate  his  subjects  at  the  boundaries  of 
knowledge,  and  to  carry  his  previous  studies  successfully  up  to  that 
point  So  soon  as  either  has  arrived  at  the  height  where  his  edu- 
cation left  him,  as  to  the  species  of  mental  effort  requisite  to  carry 
on  his  subject,  from  that  moment  his  future  professional  study 
becomes,  in  point  of  fact,  an  awkward  substitute  for  tne  education 
which  his  former  teachers  professed  to  supply.  He  must  apply 
himself  with  pain  to  an  isolated  subject,  under  great  difficulties  and 
with  small  helps,  to  gain  that  power  which  might  so  much  more 
easily  have  been  gained  when  the  mind  was  more  supple,  and 
formation  of  habits  more  easy.  Seeing,  then,  that  the  future  busi- 
ness of  life  will  require  a  knowledge  of  the  way  to  go  through  with 
a  branch  of  inquiry,  I  submit  that  such  a  process  should  form,  in 
one  instance  at  least,  the  exercise  of  preceding  years.  The  steady 
habit  of  reading,  which  extends  over  a  long  period  ;  the  practice  of 
retaining  difficulties  in  mind  to  be  considered  and  reconsidered,  to 
be  taken  up  at  the  leisure  moment,  and  laid  down  as  deferred  but  not 
abandoned  ;  the  method  of  laying  aside  that  which  presents  an 
obstacle  insuperable  for  the  time,  but  always  bearing  the  jx.nt 
in  mind  in  subsequent  study,  waiting  to  catch  the  moment  at 
which  more  extensive  reading  will  furnish  the  clue  required  ; — all 
these  most  essential  requisites  for  successful  prosecution  of  profes- 
sional studies  are  not  to  be  learnt  by  anythmg  but  practice ;  not 
can  they  be  practised  upon  the  first  half,  so  to  speak,  of  a  branch 
of  knowledge.  To  make  a  subject  teach  the  mind  how  to  inquire, 
it  must  be  carried  beyoni  the  point  at  which  the  necc-ssitv  foi 


PRUKF.SSOR    DE   MORGAN.  44  X 

inquiry  commences.  I  might,  were  it  necessary,  insist  upon  the 
success  which  so  frequently  in  after  hfe  attends  those  who  have 
exerted  their  juvenile  powers  in  the  thorough  mastery  of  some  main 
branch  of  knowledge,  so  far  as  their  years  rendered  it  practicable. 
But  this  would  lead  me  too  far,  and  I  shall,  therefore,  proceed  to  the 
second  quality  of  mind  in  question. 

Among  the  educated  classes  we  find  those  who  can  readily  com- 
bine the  ideas  which  they  possess,  and  can  turn  their  previous 
acquirements  to  the  original  consideration  of  such  questions  aa 
arise;  and  we  also  find 'those  who  are  slow  at  such  exercise,  or 
almost  altogether  incapable  of  it.  In  the  latter  class  we  often  meet 
with  persons  who  receive  what  is  submitted  to  them  with  sufficient 
readiness  of  perception,  and  decide  upon  it  with  judgment,  but, 
nevertheless,  seem  incapable  of  making  one  step  in  advance,  or,  as 
we  should  say  in  conversation,  "  out  of  their  own  heads."  That 
the  faculty  of  thinking  easily,  and  originating  thought,  should  be 
carefully  cultivated,  needs  not  to  be  maintained  ;  and  it  cannot 
be  effectively  done  without  a  considerable  degree  of  attention  paid  to 
the  method  of  thinking  which  is  chosen.  Would  you  train  a  youth 
to  discriminate  nicely  by  aid  of  the  study  of  etymology  and  verbal 
criticism,  and  by  habituating  him  to  recognise  the  very  nice,  but 
very  true,  distinctions  which  that  study  points  out }  Then  he  must 
leave  his  accidence  far  behind,  and  become  well  practised  in  the 
routine  of  language :  the  beginner  is  not  made  ready  to  approach 
his  ultimate  object  in  a  twelvemonth.  Is  it  desired  to  sharpen  his 
power  of  suggesting  methods  of  deduction  by  means  of  mathe- 
matical studies  }  He  must  go  through  the  elements,  during  which 
he  will  find  neither  the  materials  for  his  original  investigations,  nor 
power  to  pursue  them.  He  must  first  patiently  collect  knowledge, 
and  the  power  of  application  will  come  by  very  slow  degrees,  and 
wi41  not  be  in  that  state  of  activity  which  will  answer  the  purpose, 
until  something  more  than  mere  elements  is  effectively  learnt. 
Considerations  of  the  same  character  apply  to  every  department  of 
knowledge  :  there  is  a  lower  stage  in  which  the  pupil  can  do  little 
more  than  collect  ;  there  is  a  higher  state  of  knowledge  in  which  he 
can  begin  effectively  to  apply  thought  to  his  collected  stores,  and 
thus  make  them  help  him  to  useful  habits  of  mind.  If  it  be  desired 
to  train  the  power  of  investigation,  and  to  enable  the  student  to  do 
something  for  himself,  it  must  be  by  following  up  one  subject  at 
least,  to  the  extent  just  described. 

I  might,  further,  instance  the  tendency  to  create  power  of  perse- 
rerance  which  must  exist  in  sustained  and  digested  study,  and  the 
habit  of  steady  application  thereby  fostered.  But  upon  these  points 
there  will  be  no  dispute.  I  will  onlv  observe,  that  accuracy  is  seldom 
the  fruit  of  an  attention  much  divided  in  early  years.  Generally 
speaking,  correctness  in  any  branch  of  knowledge  is  a  result  only 
of  much  study.  However  simple  the  subject  may  be,  however 
absurd  the  only  possible  mistake  may  be,  I  believe  it  may  be  taken 
as  an  axiom  that  the  beginner  is  always  inaccurate,  and  remaini 


442  APPENDIX. 

subject  to  this  defect  until  he  has  acquired  something  more  than 
elements.  It  has  always  appeared  to  me  that  the  value  of  accuracy 
does  not  begin  to  be  soon  felt,  and  that  it  is  only  when  the  student 
has  something  of  considerable  extent  to  look  back  upon,  that  he 
begins  to  understand  how  much  depends  upon  correctness.  The 
same  may  be  said  as  to  lucid  arrctngement,  of  which  it  is  clear  that 
the  learner  will  never  see  the  value,  until  he  has  a  considerable 
quantity  of  matter  on  which  to  employ  himself. 

On  such  grounds  as  these  I  form  my  opinion  that  the  ancient 
universities,  in  laying  down,  as  it  were,  few  and  distinct  objects  of 
study,  did  not  pursue  a  course  for  which  they  deserve  to  be  the  objects 
of  censure.  Opinions  may  difier  as  to  the  subjects  chosen  :  some 
may  conceive  that  the  fundamental  studies  should  be  literary,  others 
scientific ;  some  may  think  thu  details  of  the  system  of  education 
faulty  in  a  high,  others  in  a  low,  degree.  With  these  and  similar 
questions  I  have  here  nothing  to  do,  but  only  with  the  principle  of 
not  turning  the  attention  of  the  student  to  a  wide  variety  of  subjects. 
If  the  universities  have  erred  in  not  encouraging  a  minor  degree 
of  attention  to  subjects  not  yet  comprehended  in  their  course — and 
I  am  far  from  saying  that  they  have  not  erred-  -still  I  think  that 
their  error  has  been  venial  compared  with  that  committed  by  the 
advocates  of  too  extensive  an  education.  Now,  I  would  charge  no 
one  with  being  the  favourer  of  either  the  existing  extreme,  or  that 
which  has  been  proposed ;  f)erhaps  the  ultras  of  either  side  are 
few  in  number.  But  having  given  some  reasons  why  the  existing 
system  in  its  worst  form  secures  several  great  points,  and  provides 
for  several  important  wants,  I  turn  to  an  equal  excess  on  the  other 
side,  and  I  aslc  what  is  the  counterbalancing  advantage  ?  When 
the  student  has  occupied  his  time  in  learning  a  moderate  portion  of 
many  diflferent  things,  what  has  he  acquired— extensive  knowledge, 
or  useful  habits  .'  Even  if  he  can  be  said  to  have  varied  learning, 
it  will  not  long  be  true  of  him,  for  nothing  flies  so  quickly  as  half- 
digested  knowledge  ;  and  when  this  is  gone,  there  remains  but  a 
slender  p>ortion  of  useful  power.  A  small  quantity  of  learning 
quickly  evaporates  from  a  mind  which  never  held  any  learning 
except  in  small  Quantities ;  and  the  intellectual  philosopher  can 
perhaps  explain  the  following  phenomenon,  -  that  men  who  have 
given  deep  attention  to  one  or  more  liberal  studies,  can  learn  to  the 
cud  of  their  lives,  and  are  able  to  retain  and  apply  very  small  quan- 
tities  of  other  kinds  of  knowledge  ;  while  those  who  have  never 
learnt  much  of  any  one  thing,  seldom  acquire  new  knowledge  aftci 
fhey  attain  to  years  of  maturity,  and  frequently  lose  the  gicatei 
part  of  that  which  they  once  possessed. 


DR.    EDWARD   FORBES.  443 

ON   THE   EDUCATIONAL   USES   OF   MUSEUMS 
[Extract  from  a  Lecture  by  Edward  Forbes,  F.R.S.) 

Museums,  of  themselves  alone,  are  powerless  to  educate.  But 
they  can  instruct  the  educated,  and  excite  a  desire  for  knowledge 
in  the  ignorant.  The  labourer  who  spends  his  holiday  in  a  walk 
through  the  British  Museum,  cannot  fail  to  come  away  with  a 
strong  and  reverential  sense  of  the  extent  of  knowledge  possessed 
by  his  fellow-men.  It  is  not  the  objects  themselves  that  he  sees 
there  and  wonders  at,  that  make  this  impression,  so  much  as  the 
order  and  evident  science  which  he  cannot  but  recognise  in  the 
manner  in  which  they  are  grouped  and  arranged.  He  learns  that  there 
is  a  meaning  and  value  in  every  object  however  insignificant,  and 
that  there  is  a  way  of  looking  at  things  common  and  rare  distinct 
from  the  regarding  of  them  as  useless,  useful,  or  curious, — the  three 
terms  of  classification  in  favour  with  the  ignorant.  He  goes  home 
and  thinks  over  it  ;  and  when  a  holiday  in  summer  or  a  Sunday's 
afternoon  in  spring  tempts  him,  with  his  wife  and  little  ones,  to 
walk  into  the  fields;  he  finds  that  he  has  acquired  a  new  interest  in 
the  stones,  in  the  flowers,  in  the  creatures  of  all  kinds  that  throng 
around  him.  He  can  look  at  them  with  an  inquiring  pleasure,  and 
talk  of  them  to  his  children  with  a  tale  about  things  like  them  that 
he  had  seen  ranged  in  order  in  the  Museum.  He  has  gained  a  new 
sense, — a  thirst  for  natural  knowledge,  one  promising  to  quench  the 
thirst  for  beer  and  vicious  excitement  that  tortured  him  of  old.  If 
his  intellectual  capacity  be  limited  and  ordinary,  he  will  become  a 
better  citizen  and  happier  man  ;  if  in  his  brain  there  be  dormant 
power,  it  may  waken  up  to  make  him  a  Watt,  a  Stephenson,  or  a 
Miller. 

It  is  not  the  ignorant  only  who  may  benefit  in  the  way  just  in- 
dicated. The  so-called  educated  are  as  likely  to  gain  by  a  visit  to 
a  Museum,  where  their  least  cultivated  faculties,  those  of  observa- 
tion, may  l)e  healthily  stimulated  and  brought  into  action.  The 
great  defect  of  our  systems  of  education  is  the  neglect  of  the 
educating  of  the  observing  powers, — a  very  distinct  matter,  be  it 
noted,  from  scientific  or  industrial  instruction.  It  is  necessary  to 
bay  this,  since  the  confounding  of  the  two  is  evident  in  many  of  the 
documents  that  have  been  published  of  late  on  these  very  important 
subjects.  Many  persons  seem  to  fancy  that  the  elements  that 
shoild  constitute  a  sound  and  manly  education  are  antagonistic, — 
that  the  cultivation  of  taste  through  purely  literary  studies  and  of 
reasoning  through  logic  and  mathematics,  one  or  both,  is  opposed 
to  the  training  in  the  equally  important  matter  of  observation 
through  those  sciences  that  are  descriptive  and  experimental. 
Surely  this  is  an  error  ;  partizanship  of  the  one  or  other  method  01 
rather  department  of  mental  training,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  rest,  is 
X  narrow-minded  and  cramping  view,  from  whatsoever  point  it  bf 


444  APPENDIX. 

taken.  Equal  development  and  strengthening  of  all  are  required 
for  the  constitution  of  the  complete  mind,  and  it  is  fuH  time  that 
we  should  begin  to  do  now  what  we  ought  to  have  done  long  ago. 
Through  the  teaching  of  some  of  the  sections  of  natural  history  and 
chemistry, — the  former  for  observation  of  forms,  the  latter  of  phe- 
nomena,— I  cannot  but  think  the  end  in  view  might  be  gained, 
even  keeping  out  of  sight  altogether,  if  the  teacher  holds  it  best  to 
do  so,  what  are  called  practical  applications.  For  this  branch  o( 
education  Museums  are  the  best  text-books  ;  but,  in  order  that  they 
should  be  effectively  studied,  they  require  to  be  explained  by  com- 
petent teachers.  Herein  at  present  lies  the  main  difficulty  con- 
cerning the  introduction  of  the  science  of  observation  into  courses 
of  ordinary  education.  A  grade  of  teachers  who  should  be  able 
and  willing  to  carry  science  into  schools  for  youth  has  hardly  yet 
appeared.  Hitherto  there  have  been  few  opportunities  for  their 
normal  instruction. 


ON  THE  CLAIMS  OF  SCIENCE  IN  EDUCATION. 

{Extract  from  an  Address  delivered  at  Birmingham  by  his  Royal 
Highness  Prince  Albert.) 

No  human  pursuits  make  any  material  progress  until  science  is 
brought  to  bear  upon  them.  We  have  seen,  accordingly,  many  of 
them  slumber  for  centuries  upon  centuries ;  but,  from  the  moment 
that  science  has  touched  them  with  her  magic  wand,  they  have 
sprung  forward,  and  taken  strides  which  amaze  and  almost  awe 
the  beholder.  Look  at  the  transformation  which  has  gone  around 
us  since  the  laws  of  gravitation,  electricity,  magnetism,  and  the  ex- 
pansive power  of  heat  have  become  known  to  us.  It  has  altered 
our  whole  state  of  existence — one  might  say,  the  whole  face  of  the 
globe.  We  owe  this  to  science,  and  to  science  alone  ;  and  she  has 
other  treasures  in  store  for  us,  if  wc  will  but  call  her  to  our 
assistance. 

It  is  sometimes  objected  by  the  ignorant,  that  science  is  uncertain 
and  changeable,  and  they  point  with  a  malicious  kind  of  pleasure 
to  the  many  exploded  theories  which  have  been  superseded  by  others, 
as  a  proof  that  the  present  knowledge  may  be  also  unsound,  and, 
after  all,  not  worth  having.  But  they  are  not  aware  that,  while 
they  think  to  cast  blame  upon  science,  they  bestow,  in  fact,  the 
highest  praise  upon  her.  For  that  is  precisely  the  difference 
between  science  and  piejudice  ;  that  the  latter  keeps  stubbornly  to 
lis  position,  whether  disproved  or  not,  whilst  the  former  is  an  unar- 
restable  movement  towards  the  fountain  of  truth,  caring  little  for 
cherished  authorities  or  sentiments,  but  continually  progressing, 
feeling  no  false  sh.-mie  at  her  shortcomings,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
the  highctit  pleasure,  when  freed  from  an  error,  at  having  advanced 


DR.   T.   HILL.  445 

another  step  towards  the  attainment  of  Divine  truth — a  pleaaute 
not  even  intelligible  to  the  pride  of  ignorance. 

We  not  unfrequently  hear,  also,  science  and  practice,  scientific 
knowledge  and  common  sense,  contrasted  as  antagonistic.  A 
strange  error  !  for  science  is  eminently  practical,  and  must  be  so. 
as  she  sees  and  knows  what  she  is  doing,  whilst  mere  common 
practice  is  condemned  to  work  in  the  dark,  applying  natural  inge- 
nuity to  unknown  powers  to  obtain  a  known  result. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  undervalue  the  creative  power  of  genius,  or 
to  treat  shrewd  common  sense  as  worthless  without  knowledge. 
But  nobody  will  tell  me  that  the  same  genius  would  not  take  an 
incomparably  higher  flight  if  supplied  with  all  the  means  which 
knowledge  can  impart ;  or  that  common  sense  does  not  become,  in 
fact,  only  truly  powerful  when  in  possession  of  the  materials  upon 
which  judgment  is  to  be  exercised. 

The  study  of  the  laws  by  which  the  Almighty  governs  the  Uni- 
verse is  therefore  our  bounden  duty.  Of  these  laws,  our  great 
academies  and  seats  of  education  have,  rather  arbitrarily,  selected 
only  two  spheres  or  groups  (as  I  may  call  them),  as  essential  parts 
of  our  national  education  :  the  laws  which  regulate  quantities  and 
proportions,  which  form  the  subject  of  mathematics  ;  and  the  laws 
regulating  the  expression  of  our  thoughts,  through  the  medium  of 
language,  that  is  to  say,  grammar,  which  finds  its  purest  expression 
in  the  classical  languages.  These  laws  are  most  important  branches 
of  knowledge,  their  study  trains  and  elevates  the  mind,  but  they 
are  not  the  only  ones  ;  there  are  others  which  we  cannot  disregard, 
which  we  cannot  do  without. 

There  are,  for  instance,  the  laws  governing  the  human  mind  and 
its  relation  to  the  Divine  Spirit  (the  subject  of  logic  and  metaphy- 
sics) ;  there  are  those  which  govern  our  bodily  nature,  and  its  con- 
nexions with  the  soul  (the  subject  of  physiology  and  psychology)  ; 
those  which  govern  human  society,  and  the  relations  between  man 
and  man  (the  subjects  of  politics,  jurisprudence,  and  political 
economy)  ;  and  many  others. 


ON  THE  CULTURE  OF  THE  SENSES. 

{.Extract /7-om  an  Address  on  Integral  Education  ^  Dr.  THOMAS 
Hill,  President  of  Harvard  University,  Mass.) 

Beginning,  then,  with  this  body,  in  which  it  has  pleased  our 
Creator  to  give  us  our  earthly  dwelling,  it  evidently  needs  a  careful 
training  to  develop  its  full  capacities  and  powers.  The  senses  are 
capable  of  education,  even  smell,  taste,  and  touch,  much  more 
hearing  and  sight.  Our  ordinary  modes  of  education  do  not  do 
justice  to  these  powers  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  ordinary  schooling, 
by  confining  children  to  books,  and  withdrawing  their  attention 


4+6  APPENDIX. 

from  visible  objects,  rather  tends  to  render  the  senses  less  u-seful  in 
conveying  impressions  to  the  mind. 

It  is  frequently  thought  that  cultivation  renders  the  sense  itself 
more  acute.  Th  js  the  blind  are  popularly  supposed  to  have  a  more 
delicate  touch,  and  a  sharper  sense  of  hearing,  than  those  who  see 
But  in  a  long  course  of  cxp)erinients,  which  I  once  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  making,  upon  a  friend  blind  from  birth,  1  found  that 
neither  his  touch  nor  his  hearing  was  so  acute  as  mine ;  1  could 
hear  faint  sounds  which  he  could  not  hear,  and  he  never  heard 
those  which  I  could  not  ;  I  could  feel  roughnesses  on  a  smooth 
surface  so  slight  that  he  could  not  detect  them.  Yet  he  could  read 
fluently  the  raised  printing  for  the  blind,  by  passing  his  fingers  over 
it,  while  I  could  not,  in  that  way,  decipher  one  word.  He  could, 
from  the  echo  of  his  footsteps,  detect  the  position  of  the  smallest 
sapling  planted  by  the  roadside,  while  I  could  not,  with  my  eyes 
shut,  tell  from  such  echoes,  the  position  of  the  largest  tree.  His 
hearing  and  touch  were  educated, — his  judgment  was  practised, 
and  he  decided  instantly  upon  the  meaning  of  sounds  which  I 
doubtless  heard,  but  could  not  interpret. 

Now  this  case  of  the  blind  is  quoted  merely  to  show  the  possi- 
bility of  educating  the  senses,  not  to  show  the  kind  or  degree  of 
education  for  those  who  have  sight.  But  that  some  systematic 
training  of  the  eye  and  the  ear  is  desirable,  as  well  as  possible,  is 
evident  from  many  considerations.  If  we  wish  a  child  to  enjoy  life, 
we  must  not  allow  it  to  go  through  the  world  with  these  great 
avenues  for  all  joyous  influences  to  enter,  closed.  There  is  a  little 
dialogue  in  Mrs.  Barbauld's  "Evenings  at  Home,"  called  •'  Eyes  and 
no  Eyes,"  which  ought  to  be  made  familiar,  not  only  to  every  child, 
but  more  especially  to  every  teacher  of  children.  Two  boys  take  a 
walk.  One  sees  nothing,  and  returns  complaining  of  the  dulness 
and  tediousness  of  the  way.  The  other,  taking  precisely  the  same 
road,  brings  home  a  variety  of  strange  and  beautiful  plants,  sees 
curious  birds,  observes  their  odd  ways,  converses  with  workmen 
about  different  branches  of  human  industry,  and  returns  full  of 
joyous  enthusiasm.  The  tale  illustrates  the  daily  experience  of  life. 
One  man  finds  it  all  a  dull,  weary  round  of  toil  and  sorrow,  sees 
nothing  and  hoars  nothing  that  can  cheer  and  enliven  him  ;  another, 
liaving  precisely  the  same  fortunes,  will  see  in  each  day's  experience, 
lessons  of  wisdom  and  pictures  of  beauty,  and  will  find,  in  all 
sounds,  music  to  lift  his  heart  into  hymns  of  thanksgivmg. 

As  a  source  of  happiness,  therefore,  I  would  have  a  child  culti- 
vate quickness  and  truthfulness  of  observation,  to  see  everything, 
and  to  see  accurately, — to  hear  everything,  and  to  hear  exactly. 
But  this  habit  of  accurate  observation  is  not  only  a  source  of 
happiness,  it  is  a  means  of  usefulness.  The  errors  in  the  world 
come  less  from  illogical  reasoning  than  from  inaccurate  observation 
and  careless  hearing.  A  clear  and  intelligent  witness,  who  can 
state  precisely  what  he  saw,  and  who  saw  everything  that  there 
was  to  see,  who  can  repeat  exactly  what  he  heard,  and  who  heard 


DR.  tNhtll.  447 

everything  that  was  said,  is  rarer  than  a  sound  lawyer  or  judge; 
Most  men  see  as  much  with  their  preoccupied  imagination  as  with 
their  eyes,  and  do  not  know  how  to  separate  their  own  fancies,  or 
their  erroneous  interpretation  of  a  fact,  from  the  observed  fact 
itself.  Physicians  can  rarely  obtain  from  the  patient  a  statement 
of  his  symptoms,  unmingled  with  theories  as  totneir  cause  ;  lawyers 
cannot  get  a  statement  of  what  a  man  did,  uncoloured  by  the  im- 
putation of  motives  for  his  action  ;  scientific  men  are  well  aware 
that  popular  testimony  to  any  minute  phenomenon  is  wholly  untrust- 
worthy. In  short,  we  should  benefit  science,  art,  jurisprudence, 
therapeutics,  literature,  and  the  whole  intellectual  and  moral  state 
of  the  community,  if  we  could  raise  up  a  generation  of  men  who 
would  make  it  a  matter  of  conscience  to  use  their  five  senses  with 
fidelity,  and  give  report  of  their  testimony  with  accuracy. 

I  would  not  here  fail  to  call  your  attention  to  the  fact  that,  in  the 
education  of  the  senses,  it  is  not  simply  power  that  is  increased.  It 
is  indeed  doubtful,  as  I  have  already  said,  whether  actual  power  of 
sense  can  be  materially  increased  ;  that  is  whether  the  eye,  the 
ear,  and  the  fingers  can  be  rendered  more  sensitive  to  impressions 
from  the  external  world.  The  need  is  of  skill  rather  than  of 
power ;  of  skill  which  arises  from  habit,  and  consists  in  part  of 
habit  ;  which,  being  the  result  or  remembrance  of  previous  efforts, 
is  precisely  analogous  to  knowledge. 

When  a  philosopher  asserts  that  there  is  more  happiness  in  the 
pursuit  of  truth  than  in  the  possession  of  it,  he  either  implies  that 
there  is  truth  to  be  pursued  and  to  be  obtained,  and  that  its  posses- 
sion is  a  good  in  itself,  or  else  he  asserts  a  most  pernicious  false- 
hood. The  pursuit  of  truth  has  been  likened  to  the  chase,  in  which 
the  value  to  the  participant  consists  not  in  the  paltry  fox  which  is 
made  the  sufferer,  and  which  could  have  been  easily  slain  as  it  was 
unkennelled,  but  the  exhilaration  of  the  ride  in  the  fresh  morning 
air,  and  in  the  emulation  between  the  horses  and  the  hounds.  Thus 
also  in  the  ingenious  disputations  and  paradoxical  arguments  of 
the  metaphysicians,  by  which  they  used  to  endeavour  to  prove  that 
there  is  no  motion,  or  that  there  is  no  rest,  that  a  hare  cannot  over- 
take a  tortoise,  or  in  the  more  serious  debates  concerning  psycho- 
logical and  theological  disputes,  it  is  not  the  truth  which  is  of 
importance,  but  the  invigoration  of  a  man's  powers  of  argument. 
But  of  what  value  is  fox-hunting  to  a  man  who  makes  no  use  of 
his  health  and  strength  gained  on  the  saddle,— and  what  estinaate 
should  we  make  of  the  man's  own  character,  if  he  felt  no  enjoy- 
ment in  anything  else  than  the  chase  ?  Neither  would  there  be  the 
least  value  in  increased  power  of  argument,  if  there  is  no  truth  to 
be  defended  ;  nor  should  we  have  any  more  respect  for  the  man 
whose  sole  delight  is  in  argumentation,  than  we  have  for  a  man 
who  only  lives  for  fox-hunting. 

If  education  is  to  develop  the  mental  powers,  then  those  powers 
must  have  a  legitimate  field  of  exercise.  There  must  be  truth  that 
is  A'orth  knowing,  and  work  that  is  worth  doing,  and  that  work 

T 


h8 


APPENDIX. 


cannot  be  done  unless  the  student  gain  knowledge  to  guide  hU 
power.  The  acquisition  of  power  without  knowledge  is  not  there 
fore  desirable. 

No  man  can  be  induced  to  study  and  to  exercise  his  intellectual 
powers  in  a  healthy  and  vigorous  way,  unless  he  devoutly  believci 
that  objective  truth  is  attainable  by  man.  A  story  is  told  of  a 
benevolent  Quaker  who  hired  a  man  asking  for  work  to  move  a 
pile  of  stones,  which  he  did  not  care  to  have  moved,  and  on  the 
man  asking  for  more  work,  the  Friend  hired  him  to  move  the 
stones  back  to  their  original  position,  which  the  poor  fellow  gladly 
did,  and  received  his  wages  thankfully.  Now  it  is  evident,  that,  if 
this  story  be  true,  the  man  out  of  employment  was  not  of  Yankee 
birth,  else  he  never  would  have  been  willing  to  move  the  stones 
back  again.  No  true  American,  with  the  spirit  of  manhood  in  him, 
could  be  hired  to  do  work  that  is  absolutely  useless  when  finished. 
A  young  man,  whose  intellectual  powers  are  worth  cultivating, 
cannot  be  willing  to  cultivate  them  by  pursuing  phantoms, — he  may 
be  willing  to  pursue  trifles  at  times  for  relaxation,  for  this  is  evidently 
a  part  of  the  Divine  plan  of  life,  that  wc  should  have  our  recrea- 
tions as  well  as  our  tasks, — but  he  cannot  make  it  his  business,  for 
seven  years  or  more,  to  study  what  he  does  not  believe  to  be  abso- 
lutely true,  and  worth  learning.  Nor  can  he  so  insult  the  majesty 
of  Truth  as  to  doubt  that  there  is  a  scheme  of  truth  laid  before  us 
by  our  beneficent  Father  for  our  study,  and  for  the  reward  of  our 
labour,  which  is  attainable  by  man,  and  towards  a  knowledge  of 
which  it  is  the  duty  of  every  man  to  struggle  with  lifelong  zeal. 

But  I  have  recently,  on  several  occasions,  expressed  myself  so 
fully  on  this  scheme  of  Truth  which  has  been  laid  before  us,  that  I 
am  inclined  to  pass  it  by  with  only  one  additional  remark,  and  that 
is,  that  it  is,  to  my  mind,  probable  that  intellectual  power  is  not 
capable  of  so  much  increase  by  culture  as  is  usually  supposed  ;  but, 
as  we  erroneously  think  the  blind  man's  acutcncss  of  hearing  has 
been  increased,  simply  because  his  skill  in  interpreting  the  meaning 
of  sounds  has  been  improved  by  practice,  so  we  attribute  to  an  in- 
crease of  intellectual  power,  in  the  educated  man,  the  results  which 
arise  chiefly,  if  not  altogether,  from  the  increased  skill  with  which 
he  uses  his  powers.  Practically  the  increased  skill  is  equivalent  to 
strength,  even  in  physical  exertions,  according  to  the  Scripture, 
"  II  the  iron  be  blunt,  and  he  do  not  whet  the  edge,  then  must  he 
put  to  more  strength  :  but  wisdom  is  profitable  to  direct"  Hut  no 
amount  of  skill  acquired  by  training  can  compensate,  in  full,  for 
any  great  deficiency  of  original  power.  We  must  beware  also  of 
comparing  the  development  of  intellectual  power  by  study  to  the 
development  of  muscular  power  by  exercise.  The  blacksmith's 
arm  and  the  student's  brain  are  made  of  different  materials,  and 
the  law  of  muscular  growth  cannot  be  extended  to  the  nervous 
system  without  a  breach  of  continuity  that  vitiates  all  inference  and 
comparison.  Uoth  doubtless  gain  skill  from  habit,  and  this  likeness 
may  come  from  the  fact  that  the  arm  is  stimulated  by  nerves,  and 


PROF.   GOLDWIN   SMITH.  449 

the  nerves  are  one  with  the  brain,— it  may  be  only  the  nervous 
system  which  is  capable  of  acquiring  habits.  But  the  part  of  the 
arm  that  grows  by  exercise  is  the  muscle,  and  there  is  no  muscle  in 
the  brain.  The  stories  which  phrenologists  give  us  of  the  growth 
of  particular  organs  by  exercise  are  to  be  received  and  sifted  with 
extreme  caution. 

I  make  these  remarks  because  I  fear,  that,  in  asserting,  as  I  do, 
that  education  increases  our  intellectual  power,  I  may  be  misunder- 
stood to  say  that  it  increases  our  intellectual  powers.  I  doubt 
whether  any  training  can  materially  augment  the  actual  strength  of 
a  man's  imagination  or  reason,  or  any  other  mental  faculty  ;  but  I 
do  not  doubt  in  the  least,  on  the  contrary  I  earnestly  maintain,  that 
education  may  give  a  man  such  skill  in  the  use  of  his  faculties, 
that,  for  all  practical  purposes,  they  shall  be  tenfold  their  original 
value. 


CLASSICAL  AND  MODERN  CULTURE. 

{By  Prof.  Goldwin  Smith.    From  the  ^^  Lectures  on  History.") 

The  nobility  and  gentry,  as  a  class,  seem  to  have  been  certainly 
more  highly  educated,  in  the  period  of  the  late  Tudors  and  the 
earlier  Stuarts,  than  in  any  other  period  of  our  history.  Then 
education  was  classical,  but  classical  learning  was  then,  not  a 
gymnastic  exercise  of  the  mind  in  philology,  but  a  deep  draught 
from  what  was  the  great  and  almost  the  only  spring  of  philosophy, 
science,  history,  and  poetry,  at  that  time.  It  is  not  to  philological 
exercises  that  our  earliest  Latin  grammar  exhorts  the  student  ;  nor 
is  it  a  mere  sharpening  of  the  faculties  that  it  promises  as  his  re- 
ward. It  calls  to  the  study  of  the  language,  wherein  is  contained 
a  grr-at  treasure  of  wisdom  and  knowledge,  and  the  student's  labour 
done,  wisdom  and  knowledge  were  to  be  his  meed.  It  was  to  open 
that  treasure,  not  for  the  sake  of  philological  niceties  or  beauties, 
not  to  shine  as  the  inventor  of  a  canon,  or  the  emendator  of  a 
corrupt  passage,  that  the  early  scholars  undertook  the  ardent,  life- 
long, and  truly  romantic  toils,  which  their  massy  volumes  bespeak 
to  our  days, — our  days,  which  are  not  degenerate  from  theirs  in 
labour,  but  in  which  the  most  ardent  intellectual  labour  is  directed 
to  a  new  prize.  Besides,  Latin  was  still  the  language  of  literary, 
ecclesiastic,  diplomatic,  legal,  academic  Europe  ;  familiarity  with  it 
was  the  first  and  most  indispensable  accomplishment,  not  only  of 
the  gentlemen,  but  of  the  high-born  ladies  of  the  time.  We  must 
take  all  this  into  account  when  we  set  the  claims  of  classical  against 
those  of  modern  culture,  and  balance  the  relative  amount  of  motive 
power  we  have  to  rely  on  for  securing  industry  in  either  case.  In 
choosing  the  subjects  of  a  boy's  studies,  you  may  use  your  own  dis- 
cretion ;  in  choosing  the  subjects  of  a  man's  studies,  if  you  desir« 


450  APPENDIX. 

any  worthy  and  fruitful  effort,  you  must  choose  such  as  the  wor'd 
values,  and  such  as  may  receive  the  allegiance  of  a  manly  mind.  It 
has  been  said  that  six  months  of  the  language  of  Schiller  and  Goethe 
will  now  open  to  the  student  more  high  enjoyment  than  six  years' 
studv  of  the  languages  of  Greece  and  Rome.  It  is  certain,  that  six 
months*  study  of  French  will  now  open  to  the  student  more  of 
Europe,  than  six  years'  study  of  that  which  was  once  the  European 
tongue.  There  are  changes  in  the  circumstances  and  conditions 
of  education,  which  cannot  be  left  out  of  sight,  in  dealing  with  the 
generality  of  minds.  Great  discoveries  have  been  made  by  acci- 
dent ;  but  it  is  an  accidental  discovery,  and  must  be  rated  as  such, 
if  the  studies,  which  were  first  pursued  as  the  sole  key  to  wisdom 
and  knowledge,  now  that  they  have  ceased  not  only  to  be  the  sole, 
but  the  best  key  to  wisdom  and  knowledge,  are  still  the  best 
instruments  of  education. 


HINTS  ON  EARLY  PHYSIOLOGICAL  STUDY. 
{By  Professor  H.  W.  Acland,  of  Oxford) 

General  physiological  questions  will,  in  a  few  years,  become  so 
universally  understood,  that  much  ordinary  literature  will  be  unin- 
telligible to  those  wholly  unacquainted  with  them.  Advanced 
physiological  problems  are  already  discussed  in  reviews,  in  this  and 
other  countries.  Sanitary  inquiries,  of  all  kinds,  now  come  within  the 
range  of  town-councils  and  officials  in  every  class  of  society.  The 
standard  of  medical  knowledge,  and  medical  practice,  will  be  raised 
in  proportion  to  the  diffusion  of  physiological  knowledge  among  the 
general  public.  I  look,  therefore,  to  the  increase  of  a  general  know- 
ledge of  physiology  and  hygiene  as  one  of  the  greatest  benefits, 
which  will  conduce,  through  science,  to  the  temporal  interests  of 
mankind.  Every  form  of  quackery  and  imposture  in  medicine 
will,  in  this  way,  and  in  this  way  only,  be  discouraged.  It  is  in 
great  part  on  this  ground — on  the  ground  of  the  future  benefit  of 
the  people,  through  dissemination  of  true  perceptions  of  the 
^oundwork  of  practical  medicine— that  I  have  laboured,  for  many 
years  to  promote  physiological  knowledge  in  this  University,  among 
students  of  whatever  rank  and  destined  for  whatever  occupation. . .  , 

Probably  no  kind  of  literary  composition  will  tend  more  to  pre- 
cision of  thought  and  statement,  than  the  early  habit  of  describing 
correctly  natural  objects.  Without  precision  of  ideas,  and  accuracy 
of  expression,  true  physiological  science  does  not  exist,  and  can 
neither  be  taught  nor  learnt.  That  this  is  so  will  appear  more  and 
more  as  time  goes  on — the  ideas  and  the  language  of  my  own 
hitherto  most  loosely  worded  art  will  become  every  year  more  defi- 
nite and  significant  Its  dogmas  arc  becoming  either  precipe  <N 
worthless. 


DR.   ACLAND. — LORD   MACAULAY.  451 

Dr.  Acland  makes  the  following  suggestions  to  teachers,  as  to 
ihe  mode  of  teaching  physiology  : — 

I.  For  the  sake  of  precision  in  a  subject  which  contains  neces- 
sarily many  doubtful  points,  introduce,  where  you  can,  precise 
definitions  and  numerical  calculations,  weights,  dimensions,  micro- 
graphic  and  others. 

II.  For  the  study  of  external  characters,  encourage  the  coUectior 
of  Fauna  and  Flora  of  the  neighbourhood,  including,  in  the  case  (/I 
all  the  boys,  microscopic  species.  For  the  study  of  organs  and 
functions,  show  dissections  where  you  can.  A  rabbit,  a  rat.  a 
sparrow,  pig,  perch,  snail,  bee,  a  few  infusoria  will  enable  you,  at 
any  time  of  the  year,  to  show  some  of  the  most  important  types  of 
structure  in  the  animal  kingdom. 

HI.  Encourage  the  boys  to  put  up  microscopic  objects.  The 
minute  manipulations  will  give  neatness  and  precise  habits.  Little 
apparatus  is  required,  and  no  "  mess  "  need  be  made. 


THE  STUDY  OF  CLASSICAL  LANGUAGES. 

[From  the  "Essay  on  the  Athenian  Orator s,^^  by  LoRD  Macaulay.) 

Modern  writers  have  been  prevented  by  many  causes  from  sup- 
plying the  deficiencies  of  their  classical  predecessors.  At  the  time  of 
the  revival  of  literature  no  man  could,  without  great  and  painful 
labour,  acquire  an  accurate  and  elegant  knowledge  of  the  ancient 
languages  ;  and  unfortunately  those  grammatical  and  philological 
studies,  without  which  it  were  impossible  to  understand  the  great 
works  of  Athenian  and  Roman  genius,  have  a  tendency  to  contract 
the  views  and  deaden  the  sensibility  of  those  who  follow  them  with 
extreme  assiduity.  A  powerful  mind  which  has  been  long  employed 
in  such  studies  may  be  compared  to  the  gigantic  spirit  in  the 
Arabian  tale,  who  was  persuaded  to  contract  himself  to  small 
dimensions  in  order  to  enter  within  the  enchanted  vessel,  and  when 
his  prison  had  been  closed  upon  him  fancied  himself  unable  to 
escape  from  the  narrow  boundaries  to  the  measure  of  which  he 
had  reduced  his  stature.  When  the  means  have  long  been  the 
objects  of  application,  they  are  naturally  substituted  for  the  end. 
It  was  said  by  Eugene  of  Savoy,  that  the  greatest  generals  have 
commonly  been  those  who  have  been  at  once  raised  to  command, 
and  introduced  to  the  great  operations  of  war  without  being  em- 
ployed in  the  petty  calculations  and  manoeuvres  which  employ  the 
tiine  of  an  inferior  officer.  In  literature  the  principle  is  equally 
sound.  The  great  tactics  of  criticism  will,  in  general,  be  best  under- 
stood by  those  who  have  not  had  much  practice  in  drilling  syllables 
and  particles.  I  remember  to  have  observed  among  the  French 
authors  a  ludicrous  instance  of  this.  A  scholar,  doubtless  of  great 
learning,  recommends  the  study  of  some  long  Latin  treatise,  oi 


45^  APPENDIX. 

which  I  now  forget  the  name,  on  the  religion,  manners,  government, 
and  language  of  the  early  Greeks.  "  For  there,"  says  he,  "  you  will 
learn  everything  of  importance  that  is  contained  in  the  Iliad  and 
Odyssey,  without  the  trouble  of  reading  two  such  tedious  books." 
Alas  !  it  had  not  occurred  to  the  poor  gentleman,  that  all  the  kno^- 
ledge  to  which  he  attached  so  much  value  was  useful  only  as  tt 
illustrated  the  great  poems  which  he  despised,  ana  7vould  be  at 
worthless  for  any  other  purpose  as  the  mythology  of  Caffraria,  of 
the  vocabulary  of  Otaheite. 


EXTRACTS    FROM  THE    EVIDENCE    GIVEN    BEFORE 
THE  ENGLISH  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS'  COMMISSION. 

Evidence  of  Professor  William  B.  Carpenter. 

Q.  I  believe,  Dr.  Carpenter,  you  are  Registrar  of  the  London 
University  ? — A.  I  am.  Q.  How  long  have  you  been  Registrar  ? 
— A.  Six  years.  Q.  I  believe  you  are  likewise  a  member  of  the 
Council  of  the  Royal  Society? — A.  Yes.  Q.  Have  you  been  able 
to  form  any  opinion  as  to  the  use  of  the  physical  sciences,  as  a 
training  of  the  mind,  as  compared  with  pure  mathematics  ? — A. 
1  think  that  their  function  is  quite  different.  I  think  that  each  is 
a  supplement  to  the  other.  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  see  either  left 
out.  It  appears  to  me,  that  the  use  of  the  physical  sciences  is  to 
train  a  class  of  mental  faculties,  which  are  ignored,  so  to  speak,  by 
a  purely  classical  or  a  purely  mathematical  training,  or  by  both 
combined.  The  observation  of  external  phenomena,  and  the  exer- 
cise of  the  reasoning  faculties  upon  such  phenomena,  are  matters 
altogether  left  out  of  the  ordinary  public-school  education.  I  am 
speaking  of  schools  in  which  classics  and  mathematics  are  the  sole 
means  of  mental  discipline.  Mathematical  training  is  limited  to 
one  very  special  kind  of  mental  action. 

Q.  In  the  schools? — A.  I  mean  that  mathematical  training  exer- 
cises the  mind  most  strenuously  in  a  very  narrow  groove,  so  to 
speak.  It  starts  with  axioms  which  have  nothing  to  do  with  external 
phenomena,  but  which  the  mind  finds  in  itself;  and  the  whole 
science  of  mathematics  may  be  evolved  out  of  the  original  axioms 
which  the  mind  finds  in  itself  I  do  not  go  into  the  question^ 
t'hether  they  arc  intuitive,  or  whether  they  are  generalizations  ot 
phenomena,  found  at  a  very  early  age ;  in  either  case,  the  mind 
finds  it  in  itself.  Now,  it  is  the  essence  of  scientific  training,  that 
the  mind  finds  the  objects  of  its  study  in  the  external  world.  As 
Uacon  says.  Homo  minister  et  interpres  natura;  so  it  appears  to 
me,  that  a  training  which  leaves  out  of  view  the  relation  of  man  to 
external  nature  is  a  very  defective  one,  and  that  the  faculties  which 
bring  his  intelligence  into  relation  with  the  phenomena  of  the 
external  world  arc  subiects  for  education  and  discipline  equ;Ul4f 


DR.   \VM.   B.   CARPENTER.  453 

fan])ortant  with  the  faculties  by  which  he  exercises  his  reason  purely 
upon  abstractions. 

Q.  Then  you  consider  that  the  mind,  if  it  only  had  the  training 
that  could  be  given  by  close  study  of  classics  and  of  pure  mathe- 
matics, has  not  had  so  great  an  advantage  in  training,  as  if  the 
study  of  physical  science  had  been  added  ? — A.  1  am  quite  of  that 
opinion  ;  and  I  may  add,  that,  having  given  considerable  attention 
to  the  reputed  phenomena  of  mesmerism,  electro-biology,  spiri- 
tualism, &c.,  1  have  had  occasion  to  observe,  that  the  -zaani  oj 
scientific  habits  of  mind  is  the  source  of  a  vast  amount  of  prevalent 
rinisconception  as  to  what  constitutes  adequate  proof  of  the  marvels 
reported  by  witnesses,  neither  untruthful  nor  unintelligent  as  to 
ordinary  matters.  I  could  name  striking  instances  of  such  miscon- 
ception in  men  of  high  literary  cultivation,  or  high  mathematical 
attainments  ;  whilst  I  have  met  with  no  one,  who  had  undergone 
the  discipline  of  an  adequate  course  of  scientific  study,  who  has 
not  at  once  recognised  the  fallacies  in  such  testimony  when  they 
have  been  pointed  out  to  him. 

Q.  I  observe,  Dr.  Carpenter,  that  your  matriculation  examinations 
do  not  take  place  till  the  applicant  is  past  sixteen.? — A.  Yes.  Q.  Being 
of  that  age,  you  see  great  benefit  in  making  natural  philosophy  and 
chemistry  part  of  that  examination,  in  addition  to  a  certain  exami- 
nation in  classics  ;  and  you  consider  that  not  merely  as  fitting  a 
boy  for  success  in  the  active  business  of  life,  but  also  as  a  means 
of  training  the  mind,  and  that  much  benefit  results  from  such  com- 
bination. I  should  like  to  ask  you,  whether  you  consider  that 
similar  recommendations  exist  to  the  introduction  of  physical 
sciences  at  an  early  age  ?  You  applied  your  observations  to  your 
own  candidates  for  matriculation .'' — A.  I  think  that  there  is  great 
advantage  in  commencing  ver>'  early.  I  have  commenced  with 
my  own  children  at  a  very  early  period  in  training  their  observing 
faculties,  simply  to  recognise  and  to  understand,  and  to  describe 
correctly  what  they  see, — showing  them  simple  experiments,  and 
desiring  them  to  write  down  an  account  of  them  ;  and,  from  my  own 
experience,  I  should  say,  that  a  boy  of  ten  years  old  is  quite  capable 
of  understanding  a  very  large  proportion  of  what  is  here  set  down 
under  the  head  of  natural  philosophy. 

Q.  Is  there  not  a  danger  of  disturbing  the  power  of  sustained 
attention,  if  too  many  subjects  of  instruction  are  brought  before 
boys  at  an  early  age  ? — A.  I  think  that  very  much  depends  on  the 
manner  in  which  it  is  done.  A  good  teacher  need  never  forfeit  the 
training  of  sustained  attention  by  directing  the  attention  to  the  facts 
of  nature,  because  the  attention  is  as  healthfully  exercised  in  what 
is  going  on  before  the  child,  as  it  is  in  the  study  of  a  book. 

Q.  Were  you  at  a  public  school  yourself.'' — A.  I  was  not. 

Q.  You  were  at  a  large  classical  school,  were  you  not  ? — A.  I  was 
brought  up  in  a  private  school.  Q.  A  large  school.? — A.  About 
twenty  was  the  average  number. 

Q.  Should  you,  from  y^ur  experience  as  a  boy,  confirm  the  opinioo 


4.54  APPENDIX. 

you  have  now  expressed  ? — A.  In  the  school  in  which  I  wasbroughl 
up,  all  thtse  subjects  were  taught  systematically  ;  and  I  certainlj 
beiicvc,  that  there  was  no  deficiency  there  of  power  of  attention,  and 
that  the  training  which  was  given  in  classics  and  mathematics-- 
which  was  a  very  substantial  one — was  not  at  all  impaired  by  \\\c 
attention  to  these  other  subjects. 

Q.  At  what  age  did  attention  to  these  subjects  commence  at  youi 
school  ? — A .  I  should  think  that  about  twelve  years  might  be  tak«'ri 
as  the  average.  Q.  Have  you  any  practical  acquaintance  with  th'e 
system  of  our  public  schools? — A.  Not  practically:  I  know  the 
system  generally.  Q.  You  know  the  amount  of  time,  perhaps, 
given  to  particular  subjects,  speaking  generally  ? — A.  Yes. 

Q.  Have  you  formed  any  opinion  as  to  whether  it  would  be 
desirable  to  diminish  the  proportion  of  time  given,  say  to  classics 
or  mathematics,  for  the  purpose  of  introducing  physical  science  ? — 
A.  I  have  formed  an  opinion,  that  at  the  earlier  age,  say  from  ten 
to  tweke  or  thirteen,  the  amount  of  study  given  to  classics  may  be 
advantageously  diminished.  I  have  been  led  to  conclude,  from 
considerable  opportunities  of  observation,  that  those  who  have  com- 
menced classics  later  than  usual,  and  have  been  of  average  intelli- 
gence, have,  by  the  age  of  sixteen,  acquired  as  good  a  classical 
knowledge  as  those  who  have  begun  earlier, — whose  minds  have 
been  fixed  upon  classical  study  for  two  or  three  years  longer.  I 
may  state,  that  that  is  quite  the  opinion  of  many  gentlemen  of  very 
large  experience  in  education  ;  and,  1  believe,  I  may  quote  Pro- 
fessor Pillans,  of  Edinburgh,  as  entertaining  it.  Dr.  Hodgson,  who 
had  for  a  long  time  a  large  public  school  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Manchester,  wrote  a  pamphlet  some  years  ago  in  defence  of  that 
opinion.  ...  I  could  quote  several  instances  of  young  men  who  have 
shown  very  remarkable  proficiency  in  classical  study  at  the  age  of 
sixteen  and  seventeen,  who  began  very  late — at  thirteen  and  fourteen. 

Q.  I  understand  you  to  attach  very  high  importance  to  the 
philosophical  study  of  language  .'' — A.  Yes.  Q.  And  to  its  being  com- 
menced early  } — Yes.  Q.  1  believe  you  are  author  of  works  called 
"  The  Principles  of  Physiology,  General  and  Comparative,"  "  The 
Microscope  and  ita  Revelations,"  and  of  "An  Introduction  to  the 
Study  of  Foraminifera".'' — A.  Yes. 

Q.  Do  you  consider  that  your  taste  for  those  studies  was 
awakened  at  school } — A.  My  taste  for  physical  and  chemical 
science  was  certainly  awakened  at  school.  The  training  that  I 
had  in  my  school-course,  and  the  .idvantages  which  I  had  of 
attending  lectures  at  the  Philosophical  Institution  at  Bristol,  at 
the  time  that  1  was  going  through  that  course,  certainly  tended  to 
develop  my  taste  for  science  generally.  At  that  time,  I  knew  next 
to  nothing  of  natural  history  ;  and  I  suppose  it  was  the  circum- 
stance of  my  having  entered  the  medical  profession,  and  l>eing  led 
to  seek  for  scientific  culture  in  the  subjects  on  which  medicine  is 
founded,  that  caused  me  to  direct  my  attention  to  natural  histor> 
and  physiology — physiology  as  based  on  natural  history,  in  fact 


DR.   WM.   B.   CARPENTER.  455 

Q.  You  were  likewise  instructed  in  mathematics  at  school.?— 
A.  Yes.  Q.  Had  you  any  occasion  to  observe  at  school  that  there 
was  one  class  of  minds  which  had  a  great  aptitude  for  mathematics, 
another  for  the  physical  sciences,  and  another  for  the  classics  ; 
so  that  there  were  three  different  types  of  mental  intelligence  ? — 
A.  Yes. 

Q.  Do  you  not  consider,  that  it  is  an  injury  to  a  boy  who  may 
liave  a  turn  for  the  sciences  of  observation,  or  for  other  natuial 
sciences,  that  he  has  no  instruction  in  them  whatever  up  to  the 
time  he  is  eighteen — up  to  the  time  of  his  going  to  the  Univer- 
sity i* — A.  I  feel  that  very  strongly.  I  am  quite  satisfied  that  there 
is  such  a  class  of  minds.  I  see  it  in  the  candidates  for  our  de- 
grees in  sciences.  Though  the  degrees  have  only  been  instituted 
two  or  three  years,  yet  I  am  quite  certain,  from  what  1  have  seen 
of  those  who  have  become  candidates  for  them,  that  there  is  a 
very  decided  aptitude  for  physical  sciences  ;  and  that  those  gene- 
rally are  persons  who  have  a  distaste  for  classics.  I  may  say,  with 
regard  to  myself,  that  I  never  had  any  taste  for  classics.  I  went 
through  a  very  long  course  of  classical  training ;  and  I  feel  very 
strongly  indeed  the  value  of  the  discipline  which  it  gave  me  :  but  I 
never,  as  a  boy,  had  any  taste  for  classics  (though  now  I  can  come 
back  and  read  a  classical  author  with  pleasure),  because  I  was  weary 
of  the  drudgery  of  the  ordinary  routine  of  instruction  (to  which  I 
had  been  subjected  from  an  unusually  early  age),  whilst  at  sixteen 
my  mind  was  not  sufficiently  advanced  in  that  direction  to  appre- 
ciate the  higher  beauties  of  a  classical  author.  For  instance,  I 
could  then  read  the  "  Prometheus  ; "  but  I  did  not  understand 
its  argument. 

Q.  It  would  be  an  injury  to  the  mental  capital  of  a  nation,  so  to 
say,  to  give  no  instruction  to  boys  in  the  physical  sciences  up  to 
eighteen  ?  —A.  1  should  certainly  consider  that  it  leaves  that 
branch  of  the  mental  faculties,  which  every  individual  has  in  a 
certain  degree,  uncultivated,  and  would  leave  without  cultivation 
those  powers  which  certain  individuals  have  in  a  very  remarkable 
degree. 

Q.  Is  it  not  the  case,  that  there  are  some  boys  at  school  who 
have  only  a  slight  aptitude  for  classical  studies,  who  have  an  apti- 
tude for  the  sciences  of  observation  and  the  experimental  sciences  f 
— A.  I  am  quite  certain  of  that.  I  have  five  sons  ;  and,  in  their 
education,  I  endeavour  to  train  what  I  perceive  to  be  the  special 
aptitude  of  each.  Thus,  my  eldest  son  has  shown  a  decided  apti- 
tude for  the  physical  and  chemical  sciences :  he  has  taken  his 
Bachelor  of  Arts  degree  in  the  University,  and  has  now  taken  that 
of  Bachelor  of  Science.  He  took  the  Bachelor  of  Arts  degree, 
because,  at  that  time,  there  was  no  degree  in  science  ;  he  went 
through  the  classical  training  required  for  it,  but  his  whole  bent  is 
for  the  exact  sciences.  On  the  other  hand,  my  second  son  has  as 
strong  a  turn  for  literary  culture  as  my  eldest  son  has  for  scientmc, 
and  I  have  encouraged  that  just  as  1  would  the  scientific  culture— 

30 


45^  APPENDIX. 

taking  care,  however,  in  each  case,  that  the  other  subjects  were  not 
neglected. 

Q.  I  think  you  mentioned  that  you  considered  that  the  study  of 
physical  science  at  an  early  age  was  conducive  to  the  cultivation  of 
the  intellectual  faculties  as  well  as  of  the  senses? — A.  I  think  so, 
decidedly,  if  it  is  nghtly  taught.  I  think  very  much  depends  upon 
the  teacher. 

(J-  Do  you  think  that  the  mind,  ordinarily  speaking,  is  as  apt 
for  the  exercise  of  its  faculties  upon  the  subjects  of  natural  science 
as  upon  grammar  and  mathematical  subjects  at  the  early  period  of 
life  ? — A.  I  should  say,  more  so  ;  that  it  is  more  easy  to  fix  a  child's 
attention  upon  something  which  it  sees  than  upon  an  abstraction. 

Q.  Do  you  think  that  in  that  point  of  view,  in  fact,  it  is  so  far  a 
subject  better  calculated  to  call  out  a  healthy  action  of  the  reason- 
ing powers  than  the  more  abstract  subjects  of  grammar  and  mathe- 
matics i* — A.  1  think  it  is  at  the  early  period.  1  think  that  a  lad 
of  from  ten  to  twelve  years  of  age  is  better  fitted  to  be  led  to 
observe  and  reason  upon  what  he  observes  in  objective  phenomena 
than  he  is  to  reason  upon  abstractions.  1  think  that,  from  say 
twelve  years  of  age,  the  powers  may  be  healthfully  exercised  upon 
abstractions ;  but,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  a  child  in  learning  a 
language  learns  by  rote  purely,  or  almost  purely,  up  to  say  twelve 
years  of  age  ;  but  after  that  he  begins,  if  he  is  well  taught,  to 
understand  the  rationale  (so  to  speak)  of  the  rules ;  but  it  is  a 
mere  matter  of  memory  with  him  up  to  that  time. 

<2-  In  fact,  you  doubt  whether,  in  the  cultivation  of  language 
the  reasoning  powers  are  much  exercised  at  all  at  that  timer— ^. 
Yes. 

Q.  Have  you  been  sufficiently  in  company  with  youths  emerging 
from  childhood  to  say  whether  there  is,  in  your  opinion,  at  all  a 
natural  curiosity  which  arises  at  that  time  for  the  observation  and 
comprehension  of  the  phenomena  of  nature  ? — A.  I  should  say 
there  is.  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  youths  of  different  ages  in 
the  course  of  my  life.  I  have  been  always  interested  in  education, 
and  have  seen  and  known  a  great  deal  of  what  takes  place  in 
education  among  the  humbler  classes  ;  and  amongst  them  there  is 
most  decidedly  a  readiness  of  observation,  and  a  readiness  ol 
power  of  apprehension  and  of  reasoning  upon  phenomena  of  nature, 
which  shows  that  that  must  be  universal. 

Q.  Have  you  observed,  that,  besides  that  power,  there  is  a 
curiosity  with  regard  to  the  phenomena,  and  an  interest  in  that 
sense  with  regard  to  the  phenomena  of  the  outward  world  "i—A,  I 
think  there  is,  if  It  is  not  repressed.  My  opinion  is,  that  the  ten- 
dency of  public-school  education  is  to  repress  all  that  curiosity,— 
to  withdraw  the  attention  so  completely  from  those  subjects  that  it 
has  no  development. 

Q.  With  regard  to  the  study  of  language,  I  think  you  said,  that 
vou  had  had  some  opportunity  of  observing  that  youths  who  began 
later  could  make  so  much  progress,  owing  to  the  different  state  ol 


DR.   WM.    B.   CARPENTER.  457 

Iheir  faculdes  then,  as  that  they  could  recover  the  amount  that  had 
been  lost  to  the  study  of  language  by  deferring  it  ?—A.  Yes  :  pro- 
viding always  that  their  mental  habits  have  been  properly  trained  : 
that  the  power  of  sustained  attention,  for  instance,  has  been  exer- 
cised in  other  ways.  .  .  . 

Q.  With  regard  to  their  bearing  on  literary  studies,  do  you  think 
that  the  mixture  of  the  physical  sciences  with  the  literary  studies 
would  be  a  mixture  which  would  be  conducive  of  benefit  to  both,  or 
otherwise  ? — A.  I  think  decidedly  conducive  of  benefit,  because  I 
cannot  think  that  any  mental  training  can  be  really  adequate  which 
is  one-sided ;  and,  again,  all  experience  shows  that  a  change  ol 
study  from  one  subject  to  another  is  advantageous  in  this  way, — 
that  it  is  a  positive  refreshment  to  the  mind.  I  believe,  that  a  lad 
who  has  been  exercised  a  certain  number  of  hours  in  the  study  of 
language,  or  in  the  study  of  mathematics,  would  enjoy  going  to  the 
study  of  physical  science.  If  it  is  properly  handled,  by  a  good 
teacher,  he  would  enjoy  that  as  much  as  he  would  enjoy  going  into 
some  desultory  coarse  of  reading  for  recreation. 

Q.  In  fact,  the  exchange  would  produce  very  much' less- physical 
exhaustion  than  the  continuance  of  the  same  study  for  the  same 
number  of  hours  ? — A.  Yes  :  I  feel  sure  of  that.  I  may  mention, 
that  there  is  at  present  going  on  a  good  deal  of  inquiry  in  regard 
to  the  number  of  hours  which  can  be  healthfully  employed  in  study 
by  the  class  of  children  who  attend  the  National  and  British  schools  ; 
and  it  is  a  subject  in  which  I  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  interest. 
I  have  happened  to  come  in  contact  with  a  good  many  individuals 
who  are  working  out  experiments  in  different  ways  ;  and  there  is  a 
very  general  conviction  amongst  the  better  and  more  intelligent 
class  of  masters  in  those  schools,  that  four  hours  a  day  is  as  much 
as  can  be  healthfully  employed  in  purely  intellectual  acquirements 
by  children  of  that  class.  Now,  I  believe  that  ihe  allowance  which 
is  healthful  for  children  of  that  class  may  be,  perhaps,  double  for 
those  of  an  educated  class. 

Q.  At  what  age? — A.  Say  from  eight  to  twelve;  but  the  pre- 
valence of  this  conviction  shows,  that  the  masters,  practically,  do 
not  find  that  the  children  learn  more  who  are  at  school  for  six  or 
seven  hours  than  those  who  are  at  school  only  from  three  and  a 
half  to  four  hours.  Q.  Do  you  think  that  you  would  find  a  dif- 
ferent, that  is,  a  larger  measure  of  hours  suitable  to  health,  if  there 
was  this  difference  in  studies  at  different  times  of  the  day  ? — A.  Yes ; 
I  feel  sure  of  it.  Q.  I  suppose  you  say  that  as  a  physiologist?  .  .  . 
A.  Yes;  I  am  speaking  as  a  physiologist  decidedly.  I  am  quite 
satisfied  of  it  as  a  fact  in  ou-r  mental  constitution.  ... 

Q.  You  said  just  now,  that  you  thought  there  were  instances  of 
boys  taking  up  the  study  of  classics  late,  and,  if  they  were  properly 
trained  in  other  ways,  making  up  for  the  lost  time  by  the  superiority 
of  their  power  of  application  and  of  learning.  Do  you  think  that 
that  might  be  the  case  also  in  the  study  of  physical  science  ;  that  a 
boy  taking  to  study  physical  science  late  might  make  up  for  lost 


4.58  APPENDIX. 

time  by  beginning  at  an  age  at  which  his  powers  were  more  de- 
veloped ? — A.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  might  make  up  for  lost  time : 
but  I  think  that  the  natural  period  for  commencing  the  study  of 
physical  science  is  at  an  earlier  age,  because  I  think  any  right 
system  of  education  will  take  up  the  faculties  in  the  order  of  their 
development ;  and  it  is  quite  certain,  that  the  observing  facultici 
are  developed  before  the  reasoning  powers.  An  infant,  during  the 
first  year  of  its  life,  is  educating  its  observing  faculties  in  a  way  we 
really  scarcely  give  it  credit  for  ;  and  the  training  of  the  observing 
faculties,  by  attention  to  the  phenomena  of  nature,  both  in  physir  a1 
and  in  natural  science,  seems  to  me  to  be  the  natural  application  of 
time  at  the  age  of  say  from  eight  to  twelve 

Q.  You  supported  your  argument  by  the  case  of  a  boy  who  had 
studied  French  as  an  introduction  to  the  study  of  Latm  and  Greek, 
and  had  not  suffered  in  his  classical  studies  by  deferring  them  : 
would  you  not  think,  that  a  boy  would  suffer  in  the  study  of  lan- 
guages by  wholly  giving  his  early  years  to  the  study  of  physical 
science,  and  not  taking  up  language  at  all  till  he  got  to  the  age, 
say  of  twelve? — A.  Yes,  1  think  he  would.  1  think  that  neglecting 
the  study  of  language  altogether  would  be  a  very  undesirable  thing  ; 
but  what  I  mean  is  this  :  1  should  prefer  to  see  the  faculties  which 
are  concerned  in  the  cultivation  of  physical  science  trained  at  the 
earlier  period,  because  1  believe  that  is  the  natural  period  in  which 
the  observing  faculties  and  the  elementary  reasoning  processes  may 
be  best  cultivated,  and  the  period  at  which  the  mind  is  not  pre- 
pared for  the  more  advanced  culture  of  language. 

Q.  But  is  it  not  the  period  at  which  it  is  also  prepared  for  the 
commencement  of  the  culture  of  language?— y4.  Certainly;  but, 
then,  1  think  all  that  the  culture  of  language  may  give  at  that 
period  may  be  given  in  a  smaller  number  of  hours  than  are  usually 
devoted  to  it. 

Q.  A  Question  was  asked  as  to  the  possibility  of  a  boy,  well 
cultivated  in  classics,  making  up  afterwards  for  deficiency  in  the 
natural  sciences.  Would  there  not  be  a  distinction  between  the 
sciences  of  observation  and  the  sciences  of  experiment  ?  Is  it 
likely  that  a  grown-up  person,  or  a  boy  beyond  a  certain  age,  would 
make  up  for  the  neglect  of  the  faculty  of  observation  ? — A.  I  think 
not  so  well.  If  I  am  allowed  to  do  so,  I  may  mention  my  own 
experience  in  the  matter.  My  greatest  difficulty  in  the  pursuit  ol 
systematic  zoology  and  botany  has  arisen,  I  am  quite  satisfied, 
from  the  circumstance,  that  I  was  not  early  trained  in  those  sciences. 
I  can  recognise  a  flower  or  an  animal  when  I  see  them,  and  I  can 
remember  their  names.  I  have  no  difficulty  as  to  verbal  memory  ; 
but  I  have  a  difficulty  in  connecting  the  two  things,  the  flower  or 
the  animal  and  the  name  ;  and  I  believe,  that,  if  I  had  had  an 
early  training  in  the  habit  of  systematic  nomenclature,  I  should 
not  have  experienced  that  difficulty  in  later  life. 

Q.  Is  it  not.  to  a  certain  extent,  the  case  with  regard  to  th« 
finculty  of  observation,  as  with  regard  to  aptness  for  rapid  c  Ucu> 


SIR   CHARLES   LYELL.  459 

lation  in  arithmetic,  that  the  habit  should  be  acquired  early  ? — A. 
Yes  :  I  am  very  strongly  of  that  opinion ;  and  I  know  that  it  is 
very  easily  acquired  under  proper  training.  The  late  Professoi 
Henslow  studied  the  method  of  teaching  natural  science,  I  believe, 
as  carefully  as  any  one  ;  and  he  was  wonderfully  successful  in 
training  that  order  of  faculties. 

Q.  Is  it  the  result  of  your  experience,  that,  by  the  exclusion  of 
the  physical  sciences  and  of  the  methods  of  investigation  employed 
in  their  study,  the  mind  does  not  receive  as  good  a  training  as  it 
might  do? — A.  I  have  been  acquainted  with  several  gentlemen 
who  have  passed  with  distinction  through  a  course  of  public  school 
and  University  training,  and  who  have  confessed  to  me  with  regret 
their  inaptitude  to  understand  any  scientific  subject  whatever, — 
their  want,  not  only  of  the  knowledge,  but  of  the  mental  aptitude. 

Q.  That  is  to  say,  that  you  consider  that  the  physical  sciences 
and  methods  of  investigation  call  forth  different  faculties  of  the 
mind  from  those  which  are  developed  by  the  studies  of  mathematics 
and  classics.'' — A.  Yes  :  I  think  so  very  decidedly. 

Q.  And  that,  therefore,  by  neglecting  the  physical  sciences,  those 
faculties  lie  dormant  if  they  existed? — A.  Yes. 


EVIDENCE  OF  SIR  CHARLES  LYELL. 

Q.  As  we  know  your  attention  has  long  been  turned  to  this 
subject,  I  would  beg  to  ask  you,  as  the  result  of  your  observation 
and  experience,  what  you  consider  to  be  the  position  of  physical 
science  and  natural  history  in  this  country,  as  far  as  regards  our 
educational  system  ? — A.  I  think  it  is  hardly  too  strong  a  term  to 
say,  that  they  have  been  ignored.  There  has  been  a  move  of  late 
in  the  Universities  to  restore  them  somewhat  to  that  place  which 
they  formerly  held,  when  the  sciences  were  much  less  advanced, 
but  when,  in  proportion  to  what  was  then  known,  they  held  a  very 
fair  position  ;  and  within  the  last  two  hundred  years  I  considci 
them  to  have  been  deprived  of  the  proper  position  which  they  once 
held.  The  public  schools  being  modelled  in  a  great  measure  on 
the  system  of  the  Universities,  they  have,  in  like  manner,  entirely 
neglected  them,  even  in  those  schools  where  they  are  educated 
sometimes  up  to  the  age  of  seventeen  or  eighteen.  I  think,  there- 
fore, that  in  that  period  of  the  progress  of  the  nation,  when  these 
branches  have  been  acquiring  more  and  more  importance,  both 
theoretically  and  practically,  that  has  been  precisely  the  time  when 
they  have  been  more  and  more  excluded  from  the  teaching  of  the 
higher  classes  of  this  country. 

Q.  To  what  would  you  attribute  the  neglect  of  these  studies  that 
has  been  shown  at  the  schools  in  particular  ? — A.  I  think  that  the 
schools  being  preparatory,  in  a  great  measure,  to  the  Universities, 
they  frame  their  system  in  regard  to  those  subjects  which  are  to 
obtain  tlie  chief  rewards,  prizes,  and  honours  at  the  University. 
Although  a  large  proportion  of  the  boys  at  our  larger  schools  do 


|.60  APPENDIX. 

not  go  to  the  University  (I  do  not  know  what  propor*ion,  but  I 
know  that  it  is  very  large),  nevertheless,  the  system  is  planned  as  i{ 
they  were  all  going  there  ;  and  whatever  be  the  plan  adopted  at  the 
Universities,  and,  particularly,  whatever  may  be  the  matriculation, 
the  entrance  examination  to  the  University,  that  will  in  no  sumll 
degree  govern  what  is  taught  in  public  schools,  if  any  branch  of 
knowledge  is  entirely  omitted. 

Q.  You  consider,  then,  that  as  there  is  no  demand  for  physical 
sciences  and  natural  history  at  the  Universities,  there  is  no  attcn^pt 
to  supply  them  at  the  schools  ? — A.  Exactly :  that  is  a  great  reason. 
Howe\'er,  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  that  those  schoolmasters  are 
brought  up  in  the  Universities  without  a  knowledge  of  the  sciences 
and  natural  history ;  and,  having  no  such  knowledge,  it  is  very 
natural  that  a  great  number  of  them  should  entertain  some  preju- 
dice, or  think  verj'  slightingly  of  them. 

Q.  You  would  consider,  then,  that  although  the  great  majority  of 
boys  educated  at  our  public  schools  do  not  go  to  the  Universities, 
yet  the  requirements  of  those  who  do  go  to  the  Universities  do,  in 
fact,  regulate  the  system  of  the  school .-' — A.  Quite  so. 

Q.  Therefore,  you  would  say,  that  the  majority  do  not  have  the 
education  that  would  be  best  for  them  ;  and,  in  fact,  are  sacri- 
ficed to  the  minority  who  are  proceeding  to  the  University?— 
A.  Yes 

Q.  At  our  public  schools,  it  is  generally  considered  that  the 
study  of  the  classics  is  the  best  possible  training  for  the  mind ;  but 
would  you  consider  that  the  mind  does  not  get  the  best  possible 
training,  if  the  study  of  the  physical  sciences  is  omitted  ?  and  would 
you  consider  that  the  study  of  physical  science  calls  into  operation 
and  develops  faculties  of  the  mind  that  are  not  called  into  activity 
by  classics  or  mathematics? — A.  Yes:  I  do  most  decidedly.  I 
think  the  reasoning  powers  and  the  judgment  are  more  cultivated 
by  these  subjects  than  by  the  exclusive  study  of  the  classics. 

Q.  Of  classics  and  mathematics  ? — A.  Yes. 

Q.  Pure  mathematics? — A.  Yes.  I  think  mathematics  applied 
often  does  that  which  pure  mathematics  will  not  do.  . . . 

(2-  It  is  sometimes  said,  with  great  force,  that  the  faculties  of 
observation  ripen,  so  to  say,  at  an  earlier  period  than  the  reasoning 
powers? — A.  Yes. 

Q.  Do  you  think  that  that  would  or  would  not  point  to  the  con- 
clusion, that  such  sciences  as  botany  and  chemistry,  perhaps,  and 
so  on,  should  be  communicated  at  an  earlier  period  ? — A.  Yes.  I 
have  no  children  of  my  own,  but  I  have  nephews  in  whom  I  tike 
much  interest  ;  and  I  certainly  have  observed  that  the  powers  of 
observation,  and  the  interest  of  observing  with  accuracy,  are  very 
early  developed,— indeed,  at  nine  or  ten ;  and  they  learn  a  vast  deiU 
of  other  things  in  consequence,  if  they  be  taught  any  of  these 
branches.  ...  Q.  You  would  prefer  their  beginning  .it  an  early 
period  ? — A.  Yes,  indeed  1  should.  ...  Q.  Do  you  think  that 
purely  literary  pursuits,  ana  the  literature  of  the  country  generally 


SIR   CHARLES   LYELL.  461 

would  receive  benefit  by  a  degree  of  scientific  education  and  in. 
struction  being  given  in  the  public  schools  and  the  Universities  in 
conjunction  with  a  literary  education? — A.  Indeed,  I  think  it 
would.  I  think  the  literature  would  gain.  I  think  the  literary 
writings  of  a  man  like  Hallam,  for  instance,  who  had  taught  him- 
self science  and  natural  history,  are  of  a  higher  stamp  than  they 
would  have  been  if  he  had  not  had  that  knowledge.  .  .  . 

Q.  In  your  geological  investigations  in  Germany,  have  you  bo- 
come  acquainted  with  many  literary  men  there  ? — A.  Yes. 

Q.  Among  the  class  of  literary  men,  is  there  greater  or  less 
knowledge  of  the  physical  sciences  than  in  England.'' — A.  There  is 
decidedly  more  general  knowledge,  even  where  there  is  no  special 
knowledge.  They  understand  a  great  deal  more  what  we  are  about 
than  the  literary  men  and  classical  scholars  of  this  country  do.  .  .  . 

Qr  With  regard  to  the  clergy,  have  you  seen  anything  of  the 
clergy  in  Germany  ?  Would  you  say  that  they  were  better  ac- 
quainted with  such  subjects? — A.  Yes,  indeed,  I  think  they  are.  I 
think  there  is  a  great  advantage  in  that  respect  in  Germany.  In 
fact,  it  was  an  observation  of  Baron  Von  Buch,  when  he  came 
over  here,  "  In  regard  to  Church  matters,  or  the  connexion  of 
science  and  religion,  you  are  as  much  behind  us  in  freedom,  as  you 
are  ahead  of  us  in  your  political  institutions  ; "  and  I  attribute  that, 
in  some  measure,  to  there  being  a  better  general  notion  of  science 
among  the  clergy.  ,  .  . 

Q.  Have  you  any  means  of  knowing  whether,  in  the  middle 
classes,  there  is  a  greater  knowledge  on  these  subjects  at  present 
than  in  the  upper  classes  ? — A.  It  is  a  very  remarkable  fact,  that,  if' 
a  scientific  book  is  published,  it  depends  more  for  its  sale  on  the 
middle  classes  of  the  manufacturing  districts  than  on  the  rich 
country  gentlemen  and  clergy  of  the  agricultural  parts  of  the 
country  ;  and  therefore,  if  there  is  distress,  like  the  present  in 
Lancashire,  the  publisher  would  say,  "  Do  not  bring  out  your  book 
now." 

Q.  In  a  pohtical  point  of  view,  is  not  that  not  only  an  unhealthy, 
but  a  dangerous  state  of  things,  in  some  repects,  that  the  material 
world  should  be  very  much  better  known  by  the  middle  classes  of 
society  than  by  the  upper  classes  ? — A.  Certainly  ;  and  I  think  it 
is  particularly  so  in  reference  to  the  teaching  in  this  country  by  the 
clergy ;  and  a  vast  proportion  of  the  University  men  are  going  into 
the  Church.  .  .  . 

Q.  But  if  the  upper  classes,  in  acquiring  a  greater  amount  of  this 
knowledge  of  the  physical  world,  were  to  lose  any  of  their  literary 
and  intellectual  superiority,  might  they  not  thereby  endanger  their 
pre-eminence  as  much  in  the  one  way  as  they  would  gain  in  the 
o^.her  ? — A.  In  answer  to  that  question,  I  think  I  could  say,  from 
my  own  experience,  that,  in  consequence  of  narrowing  the  number 
of  subjects  taught,  a  large  portion  of  those  who  have  not  a  parti- 
cular aptitude  for  literary  pursuits,  but  who  would  have  shown  a 
strong  taste  for  the  sciences,  are  forced  into  one  line  ;  and,  after 


02  APPENDIX. 

they  leave  their  College,  they  neglect  branches  they  have  been 
taught,  and  so  cultivate  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  I  have 
known  men,  quite  late  in  life,  who  have  forgotten  all  the  Latin  and 
Greek  which  they  spent. their  early  years  in  acquiring,  hit  upon 
geology  or  some  other  branch,  and  all  at  once  their  energies  have 
been  awakened,  and  you  have  been  astonished  to  see  how  thc> 
came  out.  They  would  have  taken  that  line  long  before,  and  done 
good  work  in  it,  had  they  been  taught  the  elements  of  it  at  school. 
Q.  So  that  there  was  a  mental  waste  in  their  youth? — A.  Quite  so. 

EVIDENCE  OF  DR.  M.   FARADAY. 

Q.  Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  give  us  your  opinion,  as  the 
result  of  your  observation  and  experience,  upon  the  state  of  know- 
ledge of  the  physical  sciences  and  natural  history  in  this  country, 
with  reference  to  our  educational  system? — A.  1  can  give  you  my 
impression,  as  far  as  that  is  permissible,  independent  of  any  com- 
parison between  that  part  of  knowledge  and  other  branches.  I 
am  not  an  educated  man,  according  to  the  usual  phraseology,  and 
therefore  can  make  no  comparison  between  languages  and  natural 
knowledge,  except  as  regards  the  utility  of  language  in  conveying 
thoughts  ;  but  that  the  natural  knowledge  which  has  been  given  to 
the  world  in  such  abundance  during  the  last  fifty  years  should 
remain,  I  may  say,  untouched,  and  that  no  sufficient  attempt  should 
be  made  to  convey  it  to  the  young  mind,  growing  up  and  obtaining 
its  first  views  of  these  things,  is  to  ine  a  matter  so  strange  that 
I  find  it  difficult  to  understand  it.  Though  I  think  1  see  the 
opposition  breaking  away,  it  is  yet  a  very  hard  one  to  overcome. 
That  it  ought  to  be  overcome,  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  in 
the  world.  .  .  . 

Q.  You  probably  are  aware  that  what  our  great  schools  profess 
and  aim  at  most,  is  to  give  a  good  training  to  the  mind  ;  and  it  is 
there  considered,  perhaps,  as  you  were  saying  just  now,  from  habit 
and  from  prestige,  that  that  is  effectually  done  by  the  study  of  the 
classics  and  of  pure  mathematics,  and  that  in  that  way  they  furnish 
the  best  training  of  the  mind  that  can  be  given.  Now,  I  would  ask 
you,  whether  you  think,  supposing  the  training  of  the  mind  is  the 
object  in  the  public  schools,  that  that  system  of  training  the  mind 
is  complete  which  excludes  physical  science  ?  whether  the  study  of 
physical  science  would  call  mto  activity  faculties  of  the  mind  that 
are  not  so  developed  by  studies  confined  to  classics  and  mathe- 
matics .' — A.  The  phrase,  "training  of  the  mind,"  has  to  me  a  very 
indefinite  meaning.  I  would  like  a  profound  scholar  to  indicate  to 
me  what  he  means  by  "  training  of  the  mind  ;  "  in  a  literary  sense, 
including  mathematics.  What  is  their  effect  on  the  mind  ?  What 
is  the  kind  of  result  that  is  called  the  "  training  of  the  mind  "  ?  Or 
vhat  does  the  mind  learn  by  that  training?  It  learns  things,  I  have 
no  doubt.  By  the  very  act  of  study,  it  learns  to  be  attentive,  to  be 
persevering,  to  be  logical,  according  to  the  word  "  logic."    But  does 


DR    M.    FARADAY.  463 

it  learn  that  training  of  the  mind  which  enables  a  man  to  give  a 
reason,  in  natural  things,  for  an  effect  which  happens  from  certain 
causes  ;  or  why,  in  any  emergency  or  event,  he  does,  or  should  do, 
this,  that,  or  the  other  ?  It  does  not  suggest  the  least  thing  in 
these  matters.  It  is  the  highly  educated  man  that  we  find  coming 
to  us,  again  and  again,  and  asking  the  most  simple  questions  ia 
chemistry  and  mechanics  ;  and  when  we  speak  of  such  things  as 
the  conservation  of  force,  the  permanency  of  matter,  and  the  un- 
changeability  of  the  laws  of  nature,  they  are  far  from  compre- 
hending them,  though  they  have  relation  to  us  in  every  action  of 
our  lives.  Many  of  these  instructed  persons  are  as  far  from  having 
the  power  of  judging  of  these  things  as  if  their  minds  had  never 
been  trained. 

Q.  You  would  not  consider  that  the  minds  of  such  men  as  you 
allude  to,  who  have  been  highly  trained,  and  who  have  great  literary 
proficiency,  are  in  a  state  readily  to  receive  such  information  as 
they  are  deficient  in  ? — A.  I  find  them  greatly  deficient  ;  not  in 
their  own  studies,  or  in  their  applications  of  them,  but  when  taken 
out  of  that  into  natural  sciences.  Ask  what  is  the  reason  of  this 
or  that, — they  have  a  difficulty  in  giving  the  reason.  If  they  are 
called  upon  to  judge  in  a  case  of  natural  science,  they  find  it  difficult 
to  give  a  judgment ;  they  have  not  studied  it. 

Q.  You  do  not  find  any  particular  aptitude  in  those  minds  for 
grasping  a  new  subject.? — A.  I  do  not.  Take  those  minds,  and 
apply  them  to  the  special  subjects  which  they  have  never  touched 
upon  or  known  of,  and  they  have  to  go  to  the  beginning,  just  as  the 
juvenile  does.  They  are  no  more  ready.  The  young  mind,  as  I 
find  it,  formed  by  habits,  forced  this  way  and  that  way,  is  very 
observant,  and  ask$  most  acute  questions.  I  do  not  find  that  mind, 
generally  speaking,  backward  in  understanding  the  statement  I 
make  to  him  in  simple  language  ;  and  if  I  tell  him  this  or  that, — 
if  I  tell  him  that  the  atmosphere  is  compounded  of  oxygen,  nitrogen, 
and  so  on,  and  then  shape  it  into  a  question, — he  can  generally 
answer  me.  I  must  confess  to  you,  that  I  find  the  grown-up  minds 
coming  back  to  me  with  the  same  questions  over  and  over  again. 
They  ask,  What  is  water  composed  of .''  though  I  have  told  the 
same  persons,  a  dozen  years  in  succession,  that  it  is  composed  oi 
oxygen  and  hydrogen.  Their  minds  are  not  prepared  to  receive  or 
to  embody  these  notions  ;  and  that  is  where  you  want  education, — 
to  teach  them  the  A  B  C  of  these  things. 

Q.  You  think  that  exclusive  attention  to  one  set  of  studies  during 
early  life  rather  precludes  the  ready  adoption  of  these  ideas  i* — A. 
Yes.  It  does  not  blunt  the  mind — I  do  not  think  it  does — but  it  so 
far  gives  the  growing  mind  a  certain  habit,  a  certain  desire  and 
willingness  to  accept  general  ideas  of  a  literary  kind,  and  to  say 
all  the  rest  is  nonsense,  and  belongs  to  the  artisan,  that  it  is  not 
prejiared  to  accept,  and  does  not  accept,  the  other  and  greater 
knowledge. 

Q.  So  that  the  mind  runs  in  *  particular  groove,  from  which  U 


4-64  APPENDIX. 

does  not  extract  itself  easily  ? — A.  Yes  :  by  that  ilegree  of  habit, 
the  mind,  I  do  think,  is  really  injured  for  the  reception  of  oth(ri 
knowledge.  .  .  .  Q.  Supposing  the  one  main  object  of  education  to 
be  to  train  the  mind  to  ascertain  the  sequence  of  a  particular  con- 
clusion from  certain  premises  ;  to  detect  a  fallacy  ;  to  correct  undue 
generalization;  or  generally  to  prevent  the  growth  of  mistakes  in 
reasoning, — should  you  consider  physical  science  is  as  valuable 
for  that  object  as  classical  instruction  is? — A.  I  do  not  see  clearly 
how  classical  studies  do  educate  the  mind  for  that  kind  of  judgment ; 
but,  as  regards  the  exercise  of  the  judgment  on  the  laws  of  matter, 
it  is  to  me  the  most  fertile  source  of  the  exercise  of  that  judgment, 
and  the  true  logic  of  facts,  which  I  can  conceive  of,  and  which 
enables  the  man,  when  he  has  the  facts  in  his  hand,  to  apply  them 
in  every  form  and  shape.  ...  I  think  I  see  a  most  lamentable  de- 
ficiency, even  in  the  highly  educated  men.  of  that  kind  of  logic.  .  .  . 
1  hope  I  shall  oftcnd  nobody  if  I  \.vj  to  illustrate  my  feeling  in  that 
respect.  Up  to  this  very  day,  there  come  to  me  persons  of  good 
education,  men  and  women,  quite  fit  for  all  that  you  expect  from 
education  :  they  come  to  me,  and  they  talk  to  me  .ibout  things  that 
belong  to  natural  science  ;  about  mesmerism,  table-turning,  flying 
through  the  air  ;  about  the  laws  of  gravity  :  they  come  to  me  to  ask 
me  questions  ;  and  they  insist  against  me,  who  think  I  know  a  little  of 
these  laws,  that  I  am  wrong  and  they  are  right,  in  a  manner  which 
shows  how  little  the  ordinary  course  of  education  has  taught  such 
minds.  Let  them  study  natural  thmgs,  and  they  will  get  a  very 
different  idea  from  that  which  they  have  obtained  from  that  edu- 
cation. It  happens  up  to  this  day.  I  do  not  wonder  at  those  who 
have  not  been  educated  at  all ;  but  such  as  I  refer  to,  say  to  me, 
"  I  have  felt  it,  and  done  it,  and  seen  it  ;  and,  though  1  have  not 
flown  through  the  air,  I  believe  it."  Persons  who  have  been  fully 
educated,  according  to  the  present  system,  come  with  the  same 
propositions  as  the  untaught  and  stronger  ones,  because  they  have 
a  stronger  conviction  that  they  are  right.  They  are  ignorant  of 
their  ignorance  ?t  the  end  of  all  that  education.  It  happens  even 
with  men  who  are  excellent  mathematicians.  They  and  you  will 
say,  "  But  you  are  most  likely  wrong,  and  they  right."  It  may  be 
so  ;  at  all  events,  the  education  we  speak  of  in  natural  things,  will 
be  something  in  addition' to  that  which  they  gain  by  their  study 
of  the  classics.  Until  they  know  what  are  the  laws  of  natiire,  and 
until  they  are  taught  by  education  to  see  what  are  the  natural  facts, 
they  cannot  clear  their  minds  of  these,  as  I  say,  most  absurd  incon- 
sistencies ;  and  1  say  again,  as  I  said  once  before,  that  the  system 
of  education  that  could  leave  the  mental  condition  of  the  public 
body  in  the  state  in  which  this  subject  has  found  it,  must  have  been 
greatly  deficient  in  some  very  important  principle. 

Q,  When  you  say  that  you  have  not  been  able  to  understand  in 
what  way  classical  instruction  trains  the  mind,  you  are  aware  that 
many,  perhaps  most,  of  the  defenders  of  classical  education  defend 
it  on  tlic  ground,  not  that  it  teaches  certain  things,  nor  that  ttu 


DR.    M.    FARADAY.  465 

classics,  as  classics,  have  any  peculiar  value  ;  but  that,  through  the 
classics,  both  the  laws  of  language  and  the  structure  of  language  are 
studied  ;  and  thai  it  is  the  study  of  the  laws  of  language  which  is 
held  best  to  develop  and  strengthen  the  mental  faculties  ? — A.  That 
is  narrowing  the  question  this  way,  that,  in  place  of  saying  you  are 
taking  the  classics,  you  take  the  laws  of  language  ;  and  no  doubt 
they  give  that  education,  as  far  as  1  can  see.  I  am  reasoning  in  the 
dark,  because  I  have  not  had  the  opportunity,  and  have  not  the 
right,  to  speak  of  these  things.  I  confess  all  that ;  but  although 
It  be  a  very  important  thing  to  know  language  perfectly,  and  to  know 
Its  laws,  or  to  carry  it  out,  as  the  most  profound  scholar  would  do, 
Dy  tracing  all  languages  to  an  original  one,  or  what  rot, — Max 
Miiller  or  anybody  else, — that  is  not  all  knowledge.  I  am  not  at- 
tacking the  classics  at  all.  I  am  only  putting  in  a  plea  for  that 
other  knowledge  which  belongs  to  our  absolute  nature,  and,  in  fact, 
which  language  only  helps  to  describe. 

Q.  What  is  held,  I  believe,  by  the  defenders  of  classical  literature 
is,  that  the  study  of  language  strengthens  the  general  powers  of  the 
mind  in  its  application  to  any  other  subjects  whatever  which  may 
come  before  it,  and  that  in  that  way  the  mind  is  best  strengthened 
as  an  instrument  for  acquiring  any  other  kind  of  knowledge  what- 
ever ?—^.  1  see  the  value  of  those  studies  which  do  lead  to  such  a 
result  ;  but  I  think  that,  at  present,  society  at  large  is  almost 
ignorant  of  the  like  and  greater  value  of  the  kind  of  studies  which 
I  recommend.  ...  I  say,  that  these  physical  sciences,  in  my  opinion, 
ought  to  be  brought  forward  also  ;  and  I  say  it  the  more  boldly, 
because  the  learned  men  who  have  been  so  educated  in  languages 
do  no^  show  any  aptness  to  judge  of  physical  science.  In  matters 
of  natural  knowledge,  and  all  the  uses  and  applications  derived 
from  it,  1  should  turn  to  a  man,  untaught  in  other  respects,  who  I 
knew  was  acquainted  with  these  subjects,  rather  than  to  a  classical 
scholar,  as  expecting  to  find  within  his  range  that  mode  of  mind,  or 
that  management  of  the  mind,  which  would  enable  him  to  speak 
with  understanding.  Any  word  that  1  have  said  that  has  led  you 
to  think  that  1  am  opposed  to  classics,  1  must  withdraw.  I  have 
no  such  feeling. 

EVIDENCE   OF   PROFESSOR   RICHARD   OWEN. 

Q.  The  result  of  your  observation,  coming  in  communication,  as 
you  must  have  done,  with  various  classes, — the  wealthy,  the  middle, 
and  the  poor, — 1  suppose  is,  that  there  exists  a  complete  deficiency 
in  knowledge  of  physical  science  and  natural  history .'' — A.  The 
absence  of  a  knowledge  of  the  main  end,  methods,  and  application 
cf  natural  history,  has  appeared  to  me  to  be  greater  in  the  higher 
an  1  more  refined  classes  of  the  community,  than  in  the  middle, 
or,  perhaps,  even,  as  regards  details  or  species,  than  in  the  lowei 
classes.  If  I  were  to  select  a  particular  group,  it  would  bt  the 
governing  and  legislative  class  ;  which,  from  the  opportunities  I 
have  had  of  hearing  remarks  in  conversation  or  debate,  appears  to 


4-^  APPENDIX. 

be  least  aware  of  the  extent  of  the  many  departments  of  natural- 
history  science,  of  the  import  of  its  generalizations,  and  especially 
of  its  use  in  disciphning  the  mind,  irrespective  of  its  immediate 
object  of  making  known  the  different  kinds  of  animals,  plants,  or 
minerals. 

Q.  I  suppose,  when  you  attribute  this  state  of  ignorance  to  the 
higher  classes,  you  allude  to  the  absence  of  instruction,  both  a.1 
the  public  schools  and  the  Universities,  at  which  these  classes, 
in  particular,  are  educated? — A.  More  especially  at  the  public 
schools. ... 

Q.  1  suppose  you  would  consider  that  is  not  the  best  training 
which  omits  the  physical  sciences?  —  A.  Not  the  completest. 
Grammar  and  classics,  arithmetic  and  geometry,  may  be  the  most 
important  disciplinary  studies.  We  know  the  faculties  of  the  mind 
they  are  chiefly  calculated  to  educe  ;  but  they  fail  in  bringing  out 
those  which  natural-history  science  more  especially  tends  to  im- 
prove. I  allude  now  to  the  faculty  of  accurate  observation,  of  the 
classification  of  facts,  of  the  co-ordination  of  classes  or  groups  ;  the 
management  of  topics,  for  example,  in  tneir  various  orders  of  im- 
portance in  the  mind,  giving  to  a  writer  or  public  speaker  improved 
powers  of  classifying  all  kinds  of  subjects.  Natural  history  is 
essentially  a  classifying  science.  Order  and  method  are  the  facul- 
ties which  the  elements  and  principles  of  the  science  are  best 
adapted  to  improve  and  educe.  ...  In  every  community  of  two 
hundred  or  more  youths,  there  must  be  some  few,  the  constitution 
of  whose  minds  is  specially  adapted  to  the  study  of  natural  history, 
to  the  work  of  observation  and  classification,  who  consequently  are 
impelled  by  innate  aptitude  to  that  kind  of  study,  but  who  arc  not 
at  present  afforded  the  slightest  opportunity  of  working  their  minds 
in  that  way  ;  so  that  it  may  happen  that  the  faculty  or  gift  for 
natural  history,  if  it  be  not  actually  destroyed  by  exclusive  exercise 
in  uncongeniiil  studies,  is  never  educed.  What  is  the  result?  In 
all  our  great  natural-history  movements,  we  have  looked  in  vain, 
since  the  death  of  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  for  any  man  having  a  suffi- 
cient standing  in  the  country  to  fraternize  with  us,  to  understand 
us,  to  help  us  in  debate  or  council,  in  questions  most  vital  to  the 
interests  of  natural  history.  It  has  often  occurred  to  me  to  ask  how 
such  should  be  the  case  ;  and  my  answer  has  been,  that,  in  the 
education  of  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  the  great  landed  proprietors 
of  England,  of  those  destined  to  take  part  in  the  legislation  and 
government  of  the  country,  there  has  been  a  complete  absence  of  a 
systematic  imparting  of  the  elements  of  natural  history  ;  no  de- 
monstrations of  the  nature  and  properties  of  plants  and  animals  ; 
no  indication  of  the  aims  and  importance  of  natural  history  ;  no 
training  of  the  faculties,  for  which  it  affords  the  healthiest  exercise : 
consequently  they  have  not  been  educed.  1  cannot  doubt  that  this 
must  have  been  the  effect  of  the  present  restricted  system.  There 
must  have  been  by  nature  many  Sir  Joseph  Banks's  since  he  died  : 
but  they  have  been  born,  have  grown  up,  and  passed  away  without 


PROF.   R.   OWEN.  46J 

working  out  their  destined  purpose  ;  their  peculiar  talent  has  never 
been  educeti  ;  their  attention  has  never  been  turned  to  those 
studies  :  but  they  have  been  wholly  devoted  to  classics.  It  must 
be  remembered,  that  minds  of  this  class  are  usually  very  averse  to 
classical  studies,  and  mere  exercises  of  memory  and  composition  : 
they  never  take  to  them  ;  they  get  through  them  as  well  or  as  ill  as 
they  can,  doing  little  or  nothing  to  the  purpose  ;  and  they  fail  to 
achieve  that  for  which  they  are  naturally  fitted,  from  the  want  of 
having  their  special  faculties  educed.  I  consider  it  a  loss  to  the 
nation,  that,  in  our  great  educational  establishments  for  youth, 
there  should  be  no  arrangements  for  giving  them  the  chance  of 
knowing  something  of  the  laws  of  the  living  world,  and  how  they 
are  to  be  studied.  .  .  . 

Q.  Do  you  think  there  would  be  much  difficulty  in  getting 
teachers,  say  for  the  seven  or  eight  principal  schools  of  the  countrv, 
to  undertake  that  worki* — A.  1  am  afraid  at  the  present  time  that 
there  would  be,  arising  from  the  general  defects  of  our  teaching 
arrangements,  especially  the  want  of  systematic  teaching  of  the 
elements  of  natural  history  in  schools.  We  are  all  of  us,  as  it  were, 
naturalists  by  accident.  It  is  the  perception  of  that  difficulty  which 
has  led  me,  on  every  occasion  when  I  have  been  called  upon  to 
give  evidence  on  the  subject,  to  urge  the  giving  of  elementary  in- 
struction in  natural  history  as  one  of  the  duties  that  should  be 
attached  to  the  keeper  of  each  secondary  or  subordinate  depart- 
ment in  great  national  museums  of  natural  history.  ,  .  . 

Q.  You  say  that  many  of  those  sciences  are  in  a  progressive 
state?  —  A.  Every  science  we  are  acquainted  with  is  one  of 
progress. 

Q.  But  the  principles  of  some  of  the  sciences  are  determined  ; 
such  as  those  of  mathematics,  for  instance  } — A.  The  fundamental 
principles  of  clessification  in  natural  history  are  as  certain. 

Q.  Take  this  case  :  fifty  years  ago,  supposing  zoology  to  have 
been  taught  in  schools,  would  not  the  Linnaean  system  have  been 
adopted .'' — A.  You  might  teach  the  main  part  of  that  system,  in 
reference  to  botany,  as  a  disciplinary  science  at  the  present  day. 

Q.  I  was  thinking  of  the  study  of  zoology.'' — A.  In  zoology, 
although  of  course  there  has  been  a  great  increase  in  the  knowledge 
of  the  structure  of  animals  since  the  time  of  Linnseus,  still  the 
principles  laid  down  in  Linnasus's  immortal  work,  "  Philosophia 
Botanica,"  are  really  those  that  cannot  be  deviated  from,  whethei 
the  elements  of  zoology  or  botany  be  imparted. 

Q.  You  do  not  think  there  is  any  objection  to  the  educational 
use  of  the  physical  sciences  in  consequence  of  the  fluctuating  or 
speculative  character  of  those  sciences.^ — A.  I  deny  the  " fluctuat- 
ing character  : "  it  is  not  applicable  to  natural  history.  The  zoolo- 
gical system  of  Ray  is  the  basis  of  the  system  of  Linnaeus.  It 
forms  an  essential  part  of  the  Linniean  system.  There  is  neither 
fluctuation  nor  speculation.  The  principles  of  natural  history  are 
already  as  settled  and  fixed  as  can  be  needed  for  its  use  as  a  disci- 


468  APPKNDIX. 

plinary  science.  Modification  of  details  would  never  afTect  iti 
value  in  relation  to  elementary  teaching. 

Q.  The  zoological  classifications  of  the  ancients  were  somewhat 
puerile,  were  they  not,  even  the  classification  of  Aristotle? — A.  No; 
It  is  surprising  how  much  of  Aristotle's  system  is  really  retained  ; 
how  much  is  founded  on  truth,  and  is  the  basis  of  the  modern 
classification. 

Q.  Plato  was  the  first  writei  on  classification,  I  think  :  Aristotle 
is  very  severe  on  him,  if  I  remember  rightly i* — A.  I  am  not  sure. 
Hut  the  improvement  that  Cuvier  made  on  the  zoological  system  of 
Linnaeus  was  mainly  a  revival  of  the  Aristotelian  principles,  bccau:>e 
Cuvier  was  the  first  modern  systematist  who  had  anything  like 
the  same  amount  of  knowledge  of  the  structure  of  animals  which 
that  wonderful  man,  Aristotle,  possessed. 

Q.  I  suppose  that,  if  we  were  to  wait  in  order  to  teach  the  sub- 
ject until  we  entirely  escaped  the  possibility  of  there  being  some 
change  in  the  form  and  substance  of  the  truths  taught,  we  should 
have  to  wait  for  ever,  iii  all  sciences:  should  we  not? — A.  We 
should  certainly  have  to  wait  for  the  termination  of  our  existence 
as  a  species. 

Q.  Not  with  respect  to  arithmetic,  for  instance  ? — A.  In  Tran.sac- 
tions  of  Societies  and  Academies  of  the  Natural  Sciences,  we  see 
annual  progress  and  discoveries  in  mathematics ;  the  sciences,  in 
regard  to  the  works  of  nature  or  of  the  Author  of  nature,  are  more 
incomplete  ;  and  the  more  we  know  of  them,  the  more  we  get  im- 
pressed with  the  small  amount  of  knowledge  we  possess.  But  that 
amount,  compared  with  ignorance,  is  so  great,  and  the  principles 
that  we  are  enabled  to  educe  from  the  little  that  we  do  know  are  so 
sure,  that,  taking  them  at  the  present  very  imperfect  standard, 
whether  in  respect  to  zoology,  or  botany,  or  geolog)',  they  are  as  good 
for  the  purposes  of  elementary  instruction  and  discipline  as  they 
will  perhaps  be  ten  thousand  years  hence. 

Q.  There  is  another  point  upon  which  I  should  like  to  have  your 
opinion,  which  is  a  practical  matter  entirely,  with  reference  to 
natural  history  and  philosophy.  Has  it  occurred  to  you  to  observe, 
whether  persons  in  the  upper  classes  of  society,  and  other  members 
of  society,  are  well  or  ill  acquainted  with  the  physiological  laws  of 
the  human  structure? — A.  No  :  it  is  a  knowledge  very  rarely  po?- 
sissed,  as  far  as  my  experience  goes,  very  rarely  indeed ;  and  1 
believe  that  it  is  chiefly  upon  that  general  ignorance  that  the  success 
of  spurious  systems  of  medicine  have  their  def>endcnce.  It  is 
upon  the  general  ignorance  of  the  population  that  the  empiric  bases 
his  pretensions,  and  has  an  influence  for  a  certain  time,  till  one 
>ubsides,  and  is  succeeded  by  another.  ...  In  reference  to  the  con- 
clusion to  which  I  have  come  in  regard  to  the  importance  of  natural 
history  as  an  element  of  school  instruction,  and  the  time  to  be  given 
tu  it  in  beginning  the  experiment,  I  would  ask  leave  to  read  a 
passage  from  the  address  of  a  gentleman  who  fills  a  very  eminent 
posilion,--that   of    Local    Director  of  the   (ieological   Survey   oJ 


TROF.    R.    OWEN.  4.69 

Ireland,  and  Lecturer  on  Geology  to  the  Museum  of  Irish  Industry, 
Mr.  J.  B.  Jukes  ;  who,  in  opening  the  business  of  the  Geological 
Section  of  the  British  Association,  over  which  he  presided  at 
Cambridge,  made  these  remarks :  "  The  natural  sciences  are  now 
considered  as  worthy  of  study  by  those  who  have  a  taste  for  them, 
both  in  themselves  and  as  a  means  of  mental  training  and  dis- 
cipline. In  my  time,  however,  no  other  branches  of  learning  were 
recognised  than  classics  and  mathematics  ;  and  I  have,  with  some 
shame,  to  confess,  that  I  displayed  but  a  truant  disposition  with 
respect  to  them,  and  too  often  hurried  from  the  tutor's  lecture-rooni 
to  the  river  or  field  to  enable  me  to  add  much  to  the  scanty  store 
of  knowledge  I  had  brought  up  with  me.  Had  it  not  bjen  then  for 
the  teaching  of  Professor  Sedgwick  in  geology,  my  time  would 
have  been  altogether  wasted."  So  that  it  was  just  the  accident,  so 
to  speak,  of  one  short  course  on  a  branch  of  natural  history, 
grafted  through  an  old  bequest  upon  the  main  studies  of  his  Uni- 
versity, that  led  Professor  J  ukes  to  his  appreciation  of  the  method 
of  study  and  value  of  the  science  whicn  owes  so  much  to  his 
labours.  I  could  also,  with  your  permission,  adduce  a  higher 
authority  on  the  main  point,  and  that  is  Baron  Cuvier's  ;  who,  in 
the  preface  to  the  first  edition  of  his  elementary  book  on  Natural 
History,  expresses  himself  as  follows :  ''  The  habit,  necessarily 
acquired  in  the  study  of  natural  history,  of  mentally  classifying  a 
great  number  of  ideas,  is  one  of,  the  advantages  of  this  science 
which  is  seldom  spoken  of,  and  which,  when  it  shall  have  been 
generally  introduced  into  the  system  of  common  education,  will 
perhaps  become  the  principal  one  :  it  exercises  the  student  in  that 
part  of  logic  which  is  termed  '  method,'  as  the  study  of  geometry 
does  in  that  which  is  called  '  syllogism  ; '  because  natural  history  is 
the  science  which  requires  the  most  precise  methods,  as  geometry 
is  that  which  demands  the  most  rigorous  reasoning.  Now,  this  art 
of  method,  when  once  well  acquired,  may  be  applied  with  infinite 
advantage  to  studies  the  most  foreign  to  natural  history.  Every 
discussion  which  supposes  a  classification  of  facts,  every  research 
which  requires  a  distribution  of  matters,  is  performed  after  the 
same  manner  ;  and  he  who  has  cultivated  this  science  merely  for 
amusement,  is  surprised  at  the  facilities  it  affords  for  disentangling 
all  kinds  of  affairs.  It  is  not  less  useful  in  solitude  ;  sufficiently 
extensive  to  satisfy  the  most  powerful  mind  ;  sufficiently  various 
and  interesting  to  calm  the  most  agitated  soul  :  it  consoles  the  un- 
happy, and  tends  to  allay  enmity  and  hatred.  Once  elevated  to  the 
contemplation  of  the  harmony  of  nature,  irresistibly  regulated  by 
Providence,  how  weak  and  trivial  appear  those  causes  which  it  has 
oeen  pleased  to  leave  dependent  upon  the  will  of  man  i  How 
astonishing  to  behold  so  many  fine  minds  consuming  themselves,  so 
uselessly  for  their  own  happiness  and  that  of  others,  in  the  pursuit 
of  vain  combinations,  the  very  traces  of  which  a  few  years  suffice 
to  obhterate  !  I  avow  it  proudly,  these  ideas  have  always  been 
present,    my  mind,  the  companions  of  my  labours  ;  and  if  I  have 


470  APPENDIX. 

endeavoured,  by  every  means  in  my  power,  to  advance  this  peaceful 
study,  it  is  because,  in  my  opinion,  it  is  more  capable  than  any 
other  of  supplying  that  want  of  occupation  which  has  so  largely 
contributed  to  the  troubles  of  our  age. 

EVIDENCE  OF  DR.  JOSEPH   HOOKER. 

Q.  I  believe  you  are  a  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society,  Assistant- 
Director  of  the  Botanical  Gardens  at  Kew,  and  the  author  of 
"Travels  in  the  Himalaya"? — A.  Yes. 

(2-  From  your  experience,  and  the  means  of  observation  you 
have  had,  have  you  formed  any  opinion  as  to  the  state  of  knowledge 
in  natural  and  physical  science,  with  respect  to  the  education  of 
the  upper  and  middle  classes,  as  it  exists  at  present  ? — A.  At  ICew, 
we  are  thrown  into  cor.tact  with  persons  belonging  to  the  middle 
and  upper  classes  in  very  large  numbers ;  and  I  think  the  regret 
that  they  know  nothing  of  botany  is  quite  apparent  in  all  their 
communications  with  us.  Hardly  a  day  passes  but  what  we  receive 
communications  from  some  part  of  the  world  in  which  such  regret 
is  expressed. 

Q.  What  is  the  nature  of  the  communications  into  which  you 
are  brought  with  these  classes  at  Kew.> — A.  Most  prominently 
now  with  regard  to  vegetable  fibres.  Sometimes  two  or  three 
letters  a  day  come  to  us  requiring  information  with  regard  to  well- 
known  fibres,  which  the  slightest  habit  of  observation,  or  the 
slightest  knowledge,  would  assure  the  persons  who  send  them  that 
they  cannot,  in  any  way,  be  used  for  cotton. 

Q.  Then  these  have  been  comparatively  recent  communications  ? 
— A.  No  :  they  have  gone  on  for  the  last  twenty  years  of  my 
father's  experience,  and  the  last  ten  years  of  my  own  ;  not  so  much 
formerly  with  regard  to  cotton  fibre  for  the  use  of  yarns  as  for 
making  paper,  and  for  many  other  purposes  to  which  cotton  is 
applied. 

(2-  In  fact,  you  say,  that  the  upper  and  middle  classes  in  this 
country  are  in  the  habit  of  constantly  consulting  either  your  fathei 
or  yourself  at  Kew? — A.  Yes,  both  officially  and  unofficially.  Q. 
And  both  the  subjects  upon  which  they  wish  to  have  knowledge, 
and  their  mode  of  inquiry,  lead  you  to  think  that  they  are  m  a  stale 
of  great  igr.'jrance? — A.  Yes.  Q.  That  that  study  in  particular 
ha >  bed  greatly  neglected  by  those  classes  ? — A.  Yery  greatly.  Q, 
And  they  have  generally  expressed  their  regret  that  it  has  been  so 
neglected  ? — A.  Universally,  I  may  say.  Q.  You  have  probably 
considered  that  the  neglect  of  this  important  study  is  a  matter  of 
national  regret  1 — A.  1  have  always  thought  so. 

Q.  Have  you  ever  turned  your  attention  at  all  to  the  possibiiity 
of  teaching  botany  to  boys  in  classes  at  school  ? — A.  1  havf 
thought  that  it  might  be  done  very  easily  ;  that  this  deficiency 
might  be  easily  remedied.  Q.  What  are  your  ideas  on  the  subject  ? 
—A.  My  own  ideas  are  chiefly  drawn  from  the  experience  of  my 


DR.  J.  HOOKER.  47I 

father-in-law,  the  late  Professor  Henslow,  Professor  of  Botany  at 
Cambridge.  He  introduced  botany  into  one  of  the  lowest  possible 
class  of  schools, — that  of  village  labourers'  children  in  a  remote 
part  of  Suffolk. 

Q.  Perhaps  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  tell  us  the  system  he 
pursued  ? — A.  It  was  an  entirely  voluntary  system.  He  offered  to 
enrol  the  school  children  in  a  class  to  be  taught  botany  once  a 
week.  The  number  of  children  in  the  class  was  limited,  I  think, 
to  forty-two.  As  his  parish  contained  only  1,000  inhabitants,  there 
never  were,  I  suppose,  the  full  forty-two  children  in  the  class  ;  their 
ages  varied  from  about  eight  years  old  to  about  fourteen  or  fifteen. 
The  class  mostly  consisted  of  girls.  .  .  .  He  required,  that,  before 
they  were  enrolled  in  the  class,  they  should  be  able  to  spell  a  few 
elementary  botanical  terms,  including  some  of  the  most  difficult  to 
spell,  and  those  that  were  the  most  essential  to  begin  with.  Those 
who  brought  proof  that  they  could  do  this  were  put  into  the  third 
class  ;  then  they  were  taught  once  a  week,  by  himself  generally, 
for  an  hour  or  an  hour  and  a  half,  sometimes  for  two  hours  (for 
they  were  exceedingly  fond  of  it). 

Q.  Did  he  use  to  take  them  out  in  the  country,  or  was  it  simply 
lessons  in  the  school .-' — A.  He  left  them  to  collect  for  themselves  ; 
but  he  visited  his  parish  daily,  when  the  children  used  to  come  up 
to  him,  and  bring  the  plants  they  had  collected  ;  so  that  the  lessons 
went  on  all  the  week  round.  There  was  only  one  day  in  the  week 
on  which  definite  instruction  was  given  to  the  class ;  but  on  Sunday 
afternoon  he  used  to  allow  the  senior  class^  and  those  who  got 
marks  at  the  examinations,  to  attend  at  his  house.  .  .  . 

Q.  Did  he  find  any  difficulty  in  teaching  this  subject  in  class  ? — 
A.  None  whatever  ;  less  than  he  would  have  had  in  dealing  with 
almost  any  other  subject. 

Q.  Do  you  know  in  what  way  he  taught  it  ?  did  he  illustrate  it  ? 
— A.  Invariably  :  he  made  it  practical  He  made  it  an  objective 
study.  The  children  were  taught  to  know  the  plants,  and  to  pull 
them  to  pieces  ;  to  give  their  proper  names  to  the  parts ;  to  indicate 
the  relations  of  the  parts  to  one  another  ;  and  to  find  out  the  rela- 
tion of  one  plant  to  another  by  the  knowledge  thus  obtained. 

Q.  They  were  children,  you  say,  generally  from  eight  to  twelve  ? 
— A.  Yes,  and  up  to  fourteen.  Q.  And  they  learnt  it  readily  ? — A. 
Readily  and  voluntarily,  entirely.  Q.  And  were  interested  in  it  ? — 
A.  Extremely  interested  in  it.     They  were  exceedingly  fond  of  it. 

Q.  Do  you  happen  to  know  whether  Professor  Henslow  thought 
that  the  study  of  botany  developed  the  faculties  of  the  mind, — that 
it  taught  these  children  to  think  ?  and  do  you  know  whether  he 
perceived  any  improvement  in  their  mental  faculties  from  that  ? — 
A.  Yes  :  he  used  to  think  it  was  the  most  important  agent  that 
could  be  employed  for  cultivating  their  faculties  of  observation, 
and  for  strengthening  their  reasoning  powers. 

Q.  He  really  thought  that  he  had  arrived  at  a  practical  result  ? — 
A.  Undoubtedly ;  and  so  did  every  one  who  visited  the  school  01 

31 


4-72  APPENDIX. 

the  parish.  Q.  They  were  children  of  quite  the  lower  class  ? — A. 
The  labouring  agricultural  class.  Q.  And  in  other  branches  re- 
ceiving the  most  elementary  instruction  ? — A.  Yes. 

Q.  And  Professor  Henslow  thought  that  their  minds  were  more 
developed ;  that  they  were  become  more  reasoning  beings,  from 
having  this  study  superadded  to  the  others  ? — A.  Most  decidedly. 
It  was  also  the  opinion  of  some  of  the  inspectors  of  schools,  who 
came  to  visit  him,  that  such  children  were  in  general  more  intelligent 
than  those  of  other  parishes  ;  and  they  attribute  the  difference  to 
their  observant  and  reasoning  faculties  being  thus  developed.  .  .  . 

Q.  So  that  the  intellectual  success  of  this  objective  study  was 
beyond  (question? — A.  Beyond  question.  ...  In  conducting  the 
examinations  of  medical  men  for  the  army,  which  I  have  now  corv 
ducted  for  several  years,  and  those  for  the  East- India  Company's 
service,  which  I  have  conducted  for,  I  think,  seven  years,  the 
questions  which  I  am  in  the  habit  of  putting,  and  which  are  not 
answered  by  the  majority  of  the  candidates,  are  what  would  have 
been  answered  by  the  children  in  Professor  Henslow's  village 
schooL  I  believe  the  chief  reason  to  be,  that  these  students' 
observing  faculties,  as  children,  had  never  been  trained, — such 
faculties  having  lain  dormant  with  those  who  naturally  possessed 
them  in  a  high  degree ;  and  having  never  been  developed,  by 
training,  in  those  who  possessed  them  in  a  low  degree.  In  most 
medical  schools,  the  whole  sum  and  substance  of  botanical  science 
is  crammed  into  a  few  weeks  of  lectures,  and  the  men  leave  the 
class  without  having  acquired  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the  merest 
elements  of  the  science.  .  .  . 

Q.  At  the  High  School  in  Glasgow,  did  you  observe  among  the 
boys  a  difference  of  aptitude  foi  the  three  branches  of  languages, 
mathematics,  and  the  sciences  of  observation  i* — A.  Very  gieat. 

Q,  A  boy  who  distinguishes  himself  in  classics  might  have  an 
inaptitude  for  mathematics  and  natural  science,  and  vt'c^  I'crsA  t — 
A.  Yes.  One  of  my  own  classmates  was  a  dull  boy  in  the  High 
School,  where  mathematics  were  not  then  taught,  except  in  the 
senior  class,  which  I  did  not  attend.  He  was  the  best  mathem.i- 
tician  of  his  year  at  the  University  afterwards. 

Q.  Do  you  not  think  that  it  is  very  undesirable  that  a  boy  at 
school,  having  faculties  of  a  particular  kind,  should  have  them 
wholly  neglected  ?  Take  the  example  of  a  boy  who  has  really  an 
aptitude  for  the  natural  sciences ;  do  you  hot  think  it  a  very  hard 
case  that  his  faculties  should  be  wholly  neglected? — A.  I  think  it 
is  very  hard.     Nothing  is  more  destructive  to  his  whole  education. 

Q-  Supposing  that  a  boy  happened  not  to  have  a  turn  for  lan- 
guages, his  place  in  school  would  be  very  low  down.  Would  it  not 
have  an  injurious  moral  effect  habitually  for  him  to  be  regarded  as 
stupid,  because  he  had  no  talent  fof  languages  ? — A.  Yes. 

^  It  would  have  a  tendency  to  impair  his  self-respect  ? — A.  Yes. 

Q.  The  same  boy,  if  he  had  an  opportunity  of  cultivating  his 
faculties  in  the  natural  sciences,  and  using  his  abilities  there,  would 


DR.  J.  hookp:r.  473 

be  likely  to  become  a  much  more  useful  member  of  society  ? — 
A.  Yes,  much  more. . .  . 

Q.  The  majority  of  the  young  men  who  are  intended  far  the 
medical  profession,  and  who  come  from  the  various  public  schools 
of  the  country,  scarcely  ever  bring  with  them  my  physical  science, 
do  they  ? — A.  None  whatever,  or  very  rarely. 

Q.  As  far  as  your  observation  goes,  that  is  generally  neglected  in 
your  profession  ? — A.  Yes ;  and  it  is  a  want  more  felt  by  medical 
rnen  than  by  any  others.  The  amount  of  botany  and  chemistry 
required  by  the  medical  man  might  be  as  easily  obtained  at  school 
as  during  the  time  he  is  undergoing  his  medical  curriculum. 

Q.  I  suppose  you  have  found  a  sentiment  of  regret  prevailing 
amongst  them  at  the  manner  in  which  those  valuable  years  of  their 
lives  had  been  employed  ? — A.  Very  generally. 

Q.  And  they  would  have  liked  to  have  spent  them  differently  ? — 
A.  Yes,  to  a  great  extent.  I  never  knew  them  regret  their  classics 
and  mathematics  ;  quite  the  contrary  :  but  they  do  regret  very 
much  that  their  faculties  were  not  early  trained  to  habits  of 
observation.  When  they  go  round  the  hospitals,  they  have  felt  that 
they  have  not  been  taught  to  observe,  and  to  reason  upon  what 
they  observe,  as  they  might  have  been. 

Q.  Do  you  think  there  is  a  general  feeling  amongst  those  men, 
that  the  study  of  physical  science  might  have  been  added  to  the 
classics,  without  impairing  that  knowledge  which  they  would  b« 
glad  to  have  acquired  ? — A.  That  was  the  universal  feeling. 


THE  END. 


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